The red dust of Mars swirled around the landing module, a crimson storm brewing in the distance. Inside, a lone figure hunched over a datapad, his face illuminated by the cold blue light. This was Elias, a man burdened by the weight of the universe, his heart a black hole consuming hope. He was on a mission to find solace, a place where the burden of his melancholy wouldn’t be a liability, a place where sadness was not a flaw, but a virtue.
In shadows' embrace, where silence prevails,
A solemn dance with the Reaper unveiled,
Death, a companion to all in due time,
Inevitable fate, no reason nor rhyme.
In the hush beneath ancient willows, the Wardens keep silent watch over the tender things the world forgets. They gather softened memories, soothe quiet sorrows, and listen to the stories the branches release at dawn. In their grove of green light and drifting shadows, gentleness is guarded like a sacred, living thing.
A quiet orchard hides the secret lives of its keepers—those who harvest memories instead of fruit. Each anecdote reveals a fragment of their strange, gentle magic: stories ripening on branches, whispers caught in leaves, and the quiet duty of tending what the world forgets.
A modern girl, a child of the age of sarcasm, cynicism, and memes, accidentally finds herself in a real medieval setting at the height of religious wars. But Anzhelika isn’t one to despair, and by the way, now the noble Sultan Salah ad-Din, who has intrigued her since her school years, is very close by...
Her training as an enchantress is not even half complete. Her job is to kill monsters. She travels alone in a barbarian land, recently conquered by her compatriots. Her path does not promise to be easy, but she does not intend to retreat.