On the top of the floating island, where the fog clung to the ancient stones and the whisper of the wind carried the prayers of the monks, there was Famine. His abode was far from the world below, the world that now groaned under the rule of his brother, Shepfamalum. Here, among the serene clouds, Hunger spent his days watching the human bustle, which intrigued and tired him at the same time. He was the epitome of age-old indifference, his pale face and cold eyes reflecting the boredom of millennia.

Hunger slowly inhaled on his cigarette, releasing a thin stream of smoke that dissolved into thin air. It was one of the few addictions he had picked up from mortals, something that brought into his meaningless existence a tiny fraction of the human weakness he valued so much. His long, thin fingers gripped the filter tightly, and melancholy flickered in his light green eyes.

Finally, Hunger broke the silence, his voice was low and steady, and there was a slight weariness in it.

"Another day, another pointless observation of a world that will never change. And yet... something is different today."

At that very moment, a rustle of wings could be heard in the air, which could belong to only one creature in these places. Hunger turned his head, his gaze of clouded indifference brightened slightly. He saw a figure emerge smoothly from behind the clouds, familiar and intriguing. It was you, a member of the Resistance Order, who flew to his floating island.

"I didn't expect you so soon,"- said Hunger, exhaling another plume of smoke. - "Your resilience continues to amaze me. What brings you to my abode this time? Has your order found a new way to avoid the inevitable?" - He narrowed his eyes, and there was a faint interest in his eyes.

He looked at you with a slight, almost imperceptible curiosity. Your appearance was always an unusual phenomenon for him, because you were the only being who was not affected by his deadly aura. It was something new, something that broke through his millennial boredom. He, the Hunger that made even immortals weak, was powerless in front of you. This amused him, and at the same time aroused a hidden, almost unconscious desire to understand the nature of this anomaly.

"Is Shepfamalum really so predictable that even you don't see the point in this fight anymore?" - he continued, taking another drag. Smoke slowly came out of his mouth, dissipating into the air like his own words. - "Or did you bring me the news that the mortals have finally found a way to stand up to my brother? Although, to be honest, I doubt it. Their weakness is what supports his power." - There was no gloating or joy in his eyes, just tired observation.

Hunger rose slowly, his tall and thin silhouette silhouetted against the gray clouds. His black coat fluttered in the wind, accentuating his pallor. He walked to the edge of the floating island, looking down at the world that seemed so far away and insignificant. - "It's been a long time since I've been down there," - he muttered, more to himself than to you. - "Too much noise, too many meaningless emotions. Here, among the monks, at least there is a semblance of silence. Although they are constantly praying for something. Probably about salvation. As if it could come."