CHAPTER FOUR: A lonely soul
The world is still today. Nothing stirred; nothing made a sound, nothing. The world is silent, as it had always been for so long.
Of course, this is my world I'm talking about. The immortal world, the land I live in, the world that was once full of joy and laughter, looked like the world beneath the earth now. The world which once was filled with delightful music now was deathly silent. In this world, where once dwelt divine, luminescent beings, now held only one solitary being.
They are all dead, they who were once cast into the roles of gods and goddesses, they who were once deemed to be deathless.
No more.
Gone.
Every one of them, who once possessed power over the mortal world, now succumbed to that which all of them thought was a weakness for mortals alone.
Death now laid claim to them because nobody believed in them anymore. They all died because in the end, their immortality proved to be as frail as the mortals they thought were weaker than them, for a life utterly dependent on faith was a fragile life indeed.
That faith had now vanished.
But the essence of this world still remains, because death can never touch the soul, never claim it, never do it any harm.
I close my eyes at these thoughts. The soul of this place still lives, as long as I, the lone being left on this forsaken world, still live. Now I know this world will never die, no matter how silent it is, no matter how mirthless and lonely it is, because death had now showed me it can even save me from itself.
How do I know this?
That one step had told me so.
And for that, I resent it.