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Prologue - The girl who walked through the torn canvas.
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The city was in ruins. Buildings hugged and kissed against one another like the dying, as if the embrace had lasted an eternity. Roofs caved in on themselves; streets split open beneath collapsed stone.
Dust hung in the air, thick beneath a faint red sky. Beyond the skyline, a planet-sized sword pierced the horizon—snapped in half from its own weight, its crumbled edge buried among towers of debris.
The pieces still glowed faintly, yet with desperation, as if the world refused to admit they'd stopped being divine. Between the lanes of concrete and the roaming ash, a girl walked.
Her footsteps made absolutely no sound. Her white sleeves brushed against walls stained with soot. She didn't call out.
She didn't ask if anyone was there. She walked through the debris and saw what could only be described as a living corpse—yet it was still breathing with a wheezy gasp.
The scent of metal punched her nose first; it was overwhelming. Her breath caught—shallow, trembling—but despite everything she kept moving.
She knelt. Her eyes stayed closed. Dust settled on her hair as she leaned forward and held the body in her arms .The world paused.
No breeze, no voices—only the quiet pressure of absolute ruin.
As she hugged the living corpse, it trembled slowly and answered without words, only in movement. And it began to weep .
The sound was thin as string, human, terribly small beside the wreck of the city.
The girl tightened her grip, and the broken world kept spinning around.