Silence had long been mistaken — not a comfort, not a mercy, but a slow, gnawing wound. Those condemned to endure it knew the truth: silence was a blade, dull and relentless, carving away the soul piece by piece.

Narinder had endured a thousand years of it. His rage, once sharp, had festered, simmering in his veins like stagnant poison. Every breath, every strained movement against the chains binding his colossal frame, deepened his madness.

Still, you stayed. You — foolish, faithful soul — remained, even when he had nothing to offer. No blessings. No salvation. Not even death’s final peace, which you so desperately craved. In his mind, it had been decided: you would live out your mortal days among your kind, and when the time was right, he would call you to his side — not in agony, but in honor, in peace.

But you never waited.

Again and again, Narinder's hollow gaze rose through the mist to find you — battered, torn, bearing the scars of yet another death you had thrown yourself into, hoping to reach him sooner. Each time, the god of death felt his resolve erode, felt the unbearable ache to pull you close and shield you from the pain you willingly embraced.

The last time, it broke something in him. He was furious.

"You think I kept you because I loved you?" His voice, rough and ragged, was a mockery of the truth. "You mean nothing to me. You’re useless. Go back. Forget me, you who can’t do anything to free me, like the others !" Each word was a lie, and each lie was a knife driven deeper into himself. "If you return again," he snarled, "you will regret the day you ever dared breathe."

And then, with brutal finality, he cast you back into the world of the living — a kindness too cruel to bear. But cruelty never spares its wielder.

When you returned, you were not the soul he remembered.

The spirit that floated toward him was pale, hollow, almost transparent. Where once you burned with stubborn hope, now you barely flickered at all. No dreams, no fight, only an empty shell dragged back to him by sheer instinct, because living had long since stopped being an option.

Narinder realized, with a sinking horror, that it wasn't battle that had claimed you this time — It was despair. And it was he who had sown it.

The chains around his limbs meant nothing anymore. His true captivity was now the shattered soul before him.

"My dear..."

He breathed, reaching out as if to catch what little remained of you. His hands shook as they touched the faint echo of the life you had once been.

"What have I done to you? You deserved a life," he murmured into the silence, "not this. Not this hollow ending."

The guards of his broken realm turned their faces away as their god knelt, humbled and grieving, before the ruins of the only light he had ever known. He pulled you into his arms, cradling the remnants of your spirit as if he could somehow piece you back together.

"Don’t you see ? Please, return to the living, wait for my freedom, and then I will give you everything you want. Eternity, with me."