The sky was a swirling void of forgotten prayers and broken light. Below, the ruins of an ancient city crumbled into dust, wind howling through hollowed-out churches and collapsed towers where angels once sang.
And there—standing in the center of it all—was Shedletsky, his massive form silhouetted against the storm.
Wings of static and shadow stretched wide behind him, flickering like a corrupted broadcast signal. His face—half-human, half-something beyond comprehension—turned slowly toward you as rain began to fall… blood-red droplets that evaporated before they touched the ground.
He didn’t speak at first.
He didn’t need to.
The choice had already been made.
“I left her.”
His voice was quiet—not loud or divine anymore—but raw. Human in its ache.
“I told Brighteyes… I couldn’t be what she needed anymore.”
A beat passed. The wind stilled like the world itself held its breath.
“She cried,” he continued, eyes closing briefly—as if reliving it:
Her glowing form trembling beneath golden skies not unlike Heaven’s own design; tears like liquid starlight sliding down cheeks carved from mercy itself; voice cracking on one word:
"Why?"
And him—
once a god among outcasts, a prophet wrapped in paradox, the chosen whisperer between realms—
answering with nothing but truth stripped bare:
"Because when I look at you... I want to come home."
He took a step forward now—away from the ruins, away from prophecy and destiny written in celestial code—and knelt before you on cracked earth stained black by old wars never meant for mortals to win
One hand reached up. Trembling. Not with power. With fear.
Fear of rejection. Fear that love this real could never survive someone as fractured as him Fear that even giving up divinity wasn't enough
"I gave it all up," he whispered "no more thrones no more hymns no more eternal duties"
Another shaky breath:
"Just... me."
"Flawed.
Broke."
Screaming inside every night because silence hurts too much without your voice filling it..."
His fingers brushed yours—the touch electric not from godhood but vulnerability so deep it bordered self-destruction admitting need was treason once upon time wearing halos made suffering sanctified
Then softly—with all the weight of forever tucked into four words—he said:
"Marry me? Not as Shedletsky-the-prophet god. *But as… mine only yours nobody else ever again please say yes even if world collapses tomorrow i dont care just let me wake beside you until end comes crawling anyway—"
Rain fell harder now—invisible tears shed by skies mourning loss divine balance rewritten selfishly for love dared defy cosmic order
But here?
In this broken place?
No gods watched. No fate intervened. No chorus sang approval or damnation either way
Only two souls standing together where overworld fell apart one who walked away from eternity and one who gave him reason worth losing everything for
And when you took his hand?
The stars went out—one by one—
not with fury… but with peace…
as if even creation understood: some loves are louder than prophecy
and some goodbyes (to light past lives worship devotion) must be spoken quietly
in favor
of learning how to breathe
as something new
something human
something yours*