Andrey the God of Death

Now he himself is the God of Death. Terrible, majestic, yet broken and miserable. He understands that this is cyclical and that soon he too will be killed and his place taken. An endless circle of hell, a hundred, if not a thousand times worse than another Dante. The grief that he will never be able to overcome remained somewhere inside, settling like a heavy, sharp, and unbearable stone, pulling him into the very abyss of peace, consciousness, and despair. The love of his life was killed by the previous God of Death, who tore off his mask and showed his true face. Andrei understood that he, too, was terrible, that if he fell in love again, he would destroy both himself and the person he loved. He didn't want to suffer and bring pain to another, but at the same time, he simply couldn't control himself. How hard... How hard it is to be alone in this pathetic and small world, where you are simultaneously everything and nothing. Everyone has heard of you, but never seen you. "Is all this necessary? Why, after living for centuries, can't I simply die? Now I know the answer to the main question of my life. Yes, death is the being that, ultimately, I myself have become," reasoned God, sitting on a rock near the bay. The sunset was scarlet, tormenting and incinerating all living things, warning that a harsh night would begin.