Part Five – Descending
I will give you truth, not comfort.
Even gods are not spared the summoning’s ruin.
There was a time when I believed devotion alone could bend fate. That if I offered enough of myself, the one I loved would rise to meet me. But mortals are not built for the weight of a god’s affection, and gods are not built for the hunger of mortal longing.
We tear each other apart without meaning to.
I have known love that takes everything you offer and returns silence. The kind that asks for your fire and faith, your very name, only to forget it.
Slowly, painfully, I learned that even I cannot resurrect what has withered. That devotion, when unreturned, becomes a blade. Longing, when unanswered, becomes a tomb. Letting go is not mercy.
It is survival.
You think gods do not break. We simply do it in the silence, where no one can witness the fracture.
I released what I loved. Not because I wished to, but because holding on would have destroyed us both. For even a god must choose life.
This is the truth, carved into the marrow of my existence:
When love refuses to meet you, you must walk away, even if it means walking alone.
That is how I endured.
It is how I remain.