_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

[AN: Advanced, HAPPY NEW YEAR PEOPLE!!!! HOPE YOU GUYS HAVE A GREAT YEAR AHEAD!! ONCE AGAIN, HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY 2024!!]

Fayre woke up first, laying in his arms while he hugged her from behind. 'Wha!! Where are the pillows I set to part the bed? Why am in his arms?' Together with a few more thoughts, she forced herself to calm down, but her thumping heartbeat only increased more and more as she slowly and gently picked his hands away from her waist, while holding her breath without knowing why.

With a brilliant blush dyeing her face, she rushed around in the room as she hurriedly washed her face, took a pleasingly warm bath, got ready before he woke up, so that he wouldn't see her in that unkempt morning face, which would embarrass her to death.

Feelings