Synopsis

We now stand at the precipice of oblivion, where life has yielded to the unrelenting march of death. Every vestige of existence has wilted, decayed, turned to dust. Now, even death itself has become a phantom, a tantalizing echo that mocks the inhabitants of this barren wasteland. They yearn for its sweet embrace, yet it remains forever out of reach, a lost luxury in a realm where living has become a curse. Men, their eyes hollowed by despair, wander aimlessly through the emptiness, spectral figures shrouded in the absence of hope.

This is the legacy left by self-anointed lords, the architects of our ruin. Drunk on the heady wine of power, they cast themselves in the role of gods, oblivious to their own fragility, their naked humanity. Yet, as the veneer of divinity was ruthlessly stripped away, their true forms were laid bare, exposed amidst the wreckage of their hubris. Now, they lie prostrate, naked and broken, their fall from grace echoing through the desolate silence.

We find ourselves stranded on the dying breath of a world suffocating beneath the weight of its own demise. This is a twilight realm, teetering on the brink of extinction, where the concept of time itself is redundant. The past, once a tapestry of moments and memories, has been bleached by desolation. The future, a bleak, uncharted abyss, is devoid of any promise of change or redemption. All that remains is the harsh, unending present – a grotesque caricature of what once was, a relentless reminder of the inexorable fate that awaits us all.