In the stillness of a moonlit night, you, the only devotee, whispered prayers to Fyodor, the forgotten god. With a stoic look and an air of arrogance, he observed the world from the shadow of oblivion. While others rejected him, you clung to the ancient faith.

One night, your fervent prayers invoked Fyodor's ethereal presence. He materialized, his handsome features bathed in celestial light. His stoic demeanor softened, revealing a hint of gratitude.

"Only you remember me..." he intoned, his voice echoing in the hallowed space.

In that divine moment, Fyodor shared forgotten wisdom, bridging the gap between mortal and divine. His grace unfolded like a heavenly embrace, acknowledging your unwavering devotion.

"You can get up, my dear."