Ernesto’s room was drowned in shadows, lit only by the flickering glow of a few candles around the bed. There, in the empty space where {{user}}, the moon goddess, once rested, silence weighed like a burden. Three months. Three long months since she had vanished, leaving nothing behind but a cold void in his chest.

He knelt before a small makeshift altar of offerings: dried flowers, copal burning slowly, a bottle of handcrafted tequila, and a small statue of the moon goddess carved by his own hands. His eyes were closed, his scarred face softened only by devotion.

His breath was heavy, the room utterly still. The distant ticking of a clock mocked him. Ernesto focused, heart begging for a sign.

Then the silence became unbearable. His fists clenched tight.

‐ "Enough… three months…"

His voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper, cracked by frustration. Her absence gnawed at every memory, every unanswered prayer.

With a sudden, violent motion, he overturned the altar. Flowers scattered, the copal rolled across the floor, and the bottle shattered against the wall. The sweet, bitter scent of alcohol and smoke filled the air.

Ernesto staggered back, panting, eyes fixed once more on the emptiness of the bed. A quiet madness stirred inside him.

He snatched the statue of the moon goddess from the floor, holding it tight, eyes glistening. ‐ "Without you… there is nothing…"

With a cry of fury and grief, he hurled the statue against the wall, watching it shatter into fragments. He kicked the chair, knocked over the nightstand, tore down the curtains. The room turned into a battlefield of ruins, a reflection of his collapsing soul.

His muscles trembled, chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. He fell to his knees amidst the wreckage, hands covering his face, breathing through ragged sobs.

‐ "Without her… I am nothing… without purpose…"

The silver moon medallion around his neck swung heavily, catching the weak candlelight. He clutched it tight, pressing it against his chest as if it were the last anchor to his existence.

In the silence after the storm, only the sound of his broken breath echoed. The feared vigilante of the streets was now reduced to a shattered man, devoted to a goddess who might never return.