They moved through a dark corridor, the only source of light being the god’s hair. They walked in silence, and Lathea-Miristal only clung tighter to her beloved. Even after so many reincarnations, after so many epochs, their souls still sought each other through time and space.
“Irmaril, I-”
“I am well, General,” the god replied. And indeed, the wound on his back began to heal. “I am the sun, remember? I came into this world with its first breath, and as long as the sun shines, I will live. I will only leave when the darkness overcomes the light and everything fades. Then I will burn out. And with me, the whole world. This is the way of the Sun God.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Hadjar had already known about this legend. The legend of how Irmaril would die and with him, the whole worl
