I can hardly remember the smell of flowers. The blue of the sky. The swish of grass under my feet. The warmth of sun. The color of light. It has faded. Dimmed. Like a candle petering out. When the wick burns away, where does the fire go? It diminishes, clings, burns as an ember, then dies.
But I did not die. Not even when the world ended.
I can hardly remember the sound of rain. The song of birds. The buzz of insects. The whisper of winds. It feels foreign to remember them. They are forgotten. I wish it were not so. But such is the nature of things, when all things cease.
I will not cease. Time forgot me.
But time continues. Life begins. Forces collide. Gods breathe spirit into being. A world spins. Life and death anew again. A vicious cycle, an endless circle. What rises, falls. It all is madness. The order within chaos is a sham. A dream.
Time and space forged this alliance of life and death. This new world breathes and lives. Time goes by.
A threat arises. Darkness shakes the foundations of this new world. This burning gem of beauty shall soon be put out.
But soon I shall awaken. And when I do, I will fight that darkness. I will not fail.
Not a second time.
Not a second time…
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FantasyHe is darkness. He is demon. She is light. She is savior. When the demon saves the savior, a pattern unfolds and a story unwinds, and the whole world waits with baited breath as every step seems to mirror the first. Because in the first story, every...
