"Love was never gentle to those who bled for it."
So the stars whispered,
when gods still danced with mortals,
when time bent softly for hearts that burned too bright.
In the stillness before war, there was beauty.
A quiet kind of grace in the realm where the divine walked.
Four pillars bore the weight of heaven's peace: Steel, Wisdom, Fate, and Silence.
None yet broken. None yet betrayed.
Not yet.
And in the distance, above jade palaces and floating towers of gold, the sky cracked.
A single petal fell from an immortal blossom.
Unnoticed.
Unheard.
Except by one.
Beneath the deepest clouds,
behind a veil no god dared lift,
a figure stirred in shadow.
No name. No form.
Just ancient breath… waiting.
Watching as fate folded upon itself like the threads of a tapestry unraveling.
Watching a story doomed to begin again.
And again.
A whisper stirred the silence.
"The time has come."