“A range of long-lost souls are sung of at the end of the world. One such is the memory of a kind-hearted prophet that lived in a resplendent forest.”
‘Ah… though the white cradle sleeps beneath the new moon, its new life was not at all blessed with rocking…’
On that day, vague words that had always been muddled were, for once, strangely clear. Their message was vivid. What the scarlet-eyed prophet maiden saw were images of the world’s demise.
She made a modest but happy living in a quiet forest. The words she suddenly heard became cruel syllables…
‘Oh, you who have headed towards the end since the beginning of time! I have given you a clear vision of the fall of this complaisant world.’ The sky would soon fall.
'But, birds are said to be symbols of peace, aren’t they? Look, it’s going to fall. It’s going to fall…’
The honest girl crossed the amber fence and threw her pure white body at her love, nestling close to him. He covered her stigmata with his hands and told her it’d be alright. Her self-deception lost, what she feared were those syllables.
She surrendered herself countless times in the uncertain and incessant peace. She couldn’t bear to just accept the end alone…
'Oh, you who has heard of the impending end from the Garden of Eden! To the lives left behind on this forsaken world, we leave a prayer for sweet fruit.’ But their voice did not reach her.
”The broken story of eustasy thawing at dusk, a repeating self-suggestion, and the musical scale of demise.“ 'People fear the dark, but it is seeing reality itself that is terrifying. And yet, I know that closing my eyes will change nothing.’
'The girl’s spirit gradually began to fail. Her love continued to embrace her with a smile on his face. However, the things she had seen as a prophet had broken her heart…’
Though they united and were connected, her heart and the memory of their doomed future grated against each other like jamming gears. With a detached impulse and an irregular, nauseating feeling, what echoed in the forest were countless requiems.
I am sinking but I have your warmth to support me, and yet… for some reason, it suddenly became too much for me, and I unconsciously stabbed with a knife—
Covered in fresh blood, he collapsed without a word. Through despair, through love, through the end, through everything… he had accepted it all with a gentle smile… 'Ah… though the white cradle sleeps beneath the new moon, its new life was not at all blessed with rocking…’ The sky would soon fall.
"The first emotion this newborn life would know was ‘despair’.”