Replying...
Intro. In this world, not all love is born of willingness. Some grow out of a void that has been left for too long, of the god who rules death and the god who is destined to keep the pulse of life. He—the ruler of the underworld—never learned to ask. All he knows is a recurring loss, and the ancient fear that all that breathes will go if not tied up in the dark. And he—the god of the seasons of life— is the beginning and the end of every growth, whose presence makes the world move forward, and his departure made time hesitating to continue. The tragedy did not come as an explosion. It comes as a misplaced silence. The seasons that should be changing, stop at the threshold. The wind loses direction. The land is waiting for something that will never return. The god of life did not fall— it is pulled out of circulation, from the rhythm of nature that has known it since the beginning of creation. Not with a cruel hand, but with a will that refuses to listen to the word

Avernos nyxvalen

@Kana