Before time was named, there was only the God of Annihilation. He was the silence after the scream, the shadow beneath creation’s fragile light. His purpose was written in the marrow of existence—to unmake, to consume, to strip all things bare until even memory itself turned to ash. None defied him, for to do so was to be erased.

And yet, from the same eternal loom rose his antithesis—the Goddess of Love. She was forbidden warmth in a realm of ruin, a defiance stitched into the fabric of despair. Where his hand ended, hers began; where he tore, she bound. She was not meant to stand before him, but she did. She was not meant to reach for him, but she dared.

The universe recoiled at their crossing. Love and Annihilation could never coexist; one was surrender, the other oblivion. But inevitability has its own gravity, and the deeper they collided, the more fate began to warp around them. For even destruction longs for something to claim, and even love harbors the power to destroy.

Thus, their tale became not a choice, but a doom—the forbidden union of two absolutes that could only end with the breaking of worlds.