Meanwhile, somewhere between places....

He gasped and choked in the darkness. Hot liquid gushed angrily from his throat and he gagged, struggling to find space to breathe.
STOP THAT.
He coughed and it stopped. He sucked in air greedily, desperate for the sweet relief it brought his screaming lungs. He didn't yet spare a thought for the strange voice that had halted his suffering, he was too busy trying to claw his life back inside his body.
He finally felt appeased and lay there for a while, struggling to remember what had happened. He remembered what there had been immediately before, of course. That kept pushing at the foremost of his brain and he kept pushing it back because he knew it possessed some hideous truth that he couldn't possibly face and maintain any semblance of sanity. Because what had happened meant he shouldn't be here. Because facing what had happened meant that this was what came after. And that challenged every staple belief he'd built his life on.
There was a horrible emptiness on his back and he knew immediately what that was as soon as he noticed it. He screamed into the darkness and sobbed for what felt like hours. It was worse than what this after was. This after...he would deal with it eventually.
But now he had to deal with it without his...without his wings.
He'd never thought about them much before. Not anymore than was common for his people. Which was actually much more often than the wingless thought about them, but about as often as the wingless thought about their legs. How wonderful they were. How many things you could do with them. About how you couldn't really do anything at all worth doing without them.
Of course he'd been proud of them and had preened them, like a beautiful person with lush, long, beautiful hair was proud of it and preened it. They had been massive, powerful, glorious things that flashed like metal in the sunlight. The very sight of them had...had...
He'd struck fear into a lot of people. He'd done a lot of horrible things.
And now he was here. In this awfully empty place. This awfully empty dark place. He couldn't see anything other than himself. He seemed to give off some strange sort of...glow? It was unsettling. And his skin was so pale. White, almost. It had been a deep, rich golden tan before. He was certain of this.
He held up his hand to look closer at his skin and realized he could see through it.
That was a terrible thing and he didn't let himself think about it for hours more. He wrapped his arms around himself, though not so tightly he could feel the ragged edges of torn flesh on his back, and sat there, staring emptily into the darkness. Waiting, maybe. He didn't know for what.
Shouldn't there be something...more? Someone here? Anything? A guide? A light in the distance? A bloody signpost pointing the way? Because surely he wasn't supposed to just sit here. Not for the rest of forever. What was the point in that? Billions of people, all the people there ever were, just all sitting in endless darkness for all of eternity?
That couldn't be it. There had to be something else. Some sort of system, something that was organized and logical and measureable in conceivable ways. Someone he could talk to. About this. Whatever this was. A higher authority who could explain things.
This was unacceptable. He refused to just sit on his ass in a pool of...blood.
That was when he remembered the voice.
And now suddenly sitting alone in silence in the darkness seemed at the same time much more horrible and much more appealing than walking off into it to try and find a bodiless, nameless entity.
But was waiting for it to come up behind him that much better an option?
He wrestled with himself for a long time before he finally ventured a cautious, but defiant:
"Hello?"
ABOUT TIME.
He just about pissed himself. The voice was coming from a definite direction, somewhere in front of him. He scrambled to his feet, not about to be caught off guard if it attacked.
"Who...what..."
I CAN'T SAY ANYTHING ELSE AFTER TELLING YOU THIS UNLESS YOU ASK A SPECIFIC QUESTION.
"...Uh."
He thought about it.
"...Is this magic?"
IS WHAT MAGIC. SPECIFY.
"Am I in some sort of...magical holding cell. Of the enemy?"
NO.
"...Are you sure?"
YES. YOU'RE ALL DONE WITH THAT, I'M AFRAID.
"What do you mean, done with it?"
IT'S QUITE FRANKLY OUT OF YOUR HANDS. IN FACT I SHOULDN'T SPARE IT ANOTHER THOUGHT NOW. THERE'S REALLY NOTHING YOU CAN DO.
"I don't know if I'll accept that as an answer."
CHEEKY BASTARD. WELL, DO YOU KNOW AN EXCEPTIONAL NECROMANCER?
"I...no?"
AND EVEN IF YOU DID, THEY CAN'T BRING BACK SOULS. THEY JUST ANIMATE THE BODIES.
"Hhhh..." He'd meant to say "Oh", but the shock had gotten to his throat before he managed it. The O had gotten stuck immediately--O sounds took up a good deal of space in the throat--but the whispery hhh just barely managed to slip past it.
YES. I'M AFRAID SO.
"Bhhh..." He'd meant to say "but" that time, but once again, the other letters had gotten stuck and only a whisper was able to escape.
OH, DEAR. YOU HADN'T REALIZED THAT YET. TERRIBLY SORRY. I'LL GIVE YOU SOME TIME TO COME TO TERMS WITH THAT.
The voice gave him a lot of time.