₊ 𖦹﹕𝗘𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗔！(🥀)

── 𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈 . ✦

提炼 . . . 000
@/mxtsuro | AO3 & Wattpad
Myrddin Emrys © 2025

﹒  ◠  EUTHANASIA    ⊹    ﹒
— “ mercy-killing ” !
We are stripped bare by the curse of plenty.
★ . Winston Churchill » +

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈 ⠀ᰋ 
── ★ ˙ under a bleeding sky, the war scorns a man  ̟ !!

          In the realm of forgotten dreams, where time hung like thick fog and reality bent under the weight of its own fragility, there existed a being of unnerving presence. The air was still, heavy with an eerie quiet that carried the scent of damp earth and decay, as if the land itself had long forgotten the warmth of the sun. This place, neither fully alive nor truly dead, was home to a figure that walked the threshold of both---a king with eyes the color of burnt amber, their glow dull and devoid of the spark of life or hope. His gaze pierced the space around him, but not in search of treasures or beauty; it was as if he saw through all that was mortal, gazing into something far older, far more ancient than the bones of the earth.

          He moved with a deliberate grace, each step soundless against the invisible ground, as though the world had given way beneath his feet, allowing him passage without resistance. His figure was tall and gaunt, draped in a cloak that shifted like liquid shadow, trailing behind him as if it were part of the darkness itself. The cloak, woven from the fabric of night, seemed to absorb all light, leaving nothing but a hollow silhouette of his form against the dying twilight. He did not belong to the world of man, nor to the heavens, but to a place that existed beyond---an in-between, where forgotten things went to fester and fade.

          His amber eyes were fixed, staring not at what lay before him, but beyond, into the abyss of forgotten memories and lost souls. There was no emotion in his gaze---no pity, no joy, no sorrow---only a cold, distant awareness. And yet, within that detachment lay something far more sinister, a malevolent undercurrent hidden just beneath the surface. It was a burden he carried, veiled in shadows so thick they seemed to pulse with life, as if the darkness itself fed off the power that slumbered within him. Each breath he drew felt like it stirred the very air, sending ripples through the stillness, disturbing the fragile peace that blanketed the dreamlike landscape.

          He was a specter haunting the corridors of time, a being born from the deepest corners of the subconscious, where primal fears and ancient secrets had been buried for eons. His presence was not just felt; it seeped into the bones, creeping through the skin like a cold wind, unsettling the mind with whispers of things long forgotten. There were no words in the air, no voice that could be heard, but the weight of his existence spoke volumes. The very essence of him carried the echo of secrets mankind was never meant to know, forbidden knowledge that lingered just out of reach, teasing the edges of understanding.

          As he moved, his footsteps left no trace, yet the earth seemed to remember his passing, as if it trembled in fear of the power he possessed. It was not a power that shone like the sun or burned like fire---it was deeper, darker, an elemental force that churned beneath the surface of the world like the molten core of a planet. His obsidian heart, hidden beneath layers of shadow and mystery, pulsed with this force, waiting for the moment when it would be unleashed upon the unsuspecting world.

          This power was not kind, nor was it cruel---it simply was, waiting like a coiled serpent, ready to strike when the time came. And when it did, it would be like a tempest unraveling across a sea that had once been tranquil, a storm of unimaginable fury tearing through the fabric of reality. The calm that preceded it was deceptive, lulling those who saw him into a false sense of security, unaware of the chaos that lay beneath his still exterior. He was the harbinger of that storm, the one who would unravel the fragile threads that held the world together.

          And yet, despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was something compelling about him, something that drew the eye and held it captive. It was not beauty, nor charm, but a raw magnetism, a force of nature that could not be ignored. His very presence demanded attention, commanded fear, yet also invited curiosity, as though the mind could not help but wonder what lay behind those amber eyes, what secrets they guarded so jealously. There was power there, potent and palpable, but it was not the kind of power that could be controlled or understood by mortal minds. It was a force as old as time itself, a storm waiting to be unleashed, and when it finally came, nothing would be the same.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 euthanasia