Ghost 🥀 War that blooms 🐏

The field still smoldered, iron cooled amidst motionless bodies, and the air was heavy with a deathly silence that only existed after destruction. Ghost, the God of War, stood motionless, as if he were part of that devastated landscape. His armor was stained, his breathing was beginning to slow, but his gaze was empty.

It was always like that; the God of War was always shrouded in chaos. Until the wind shifted and a gentle scent drifted by.

The first flowers sprouted among the blackened earth, pushing their way through the ashes as if they didn't understand that this was no place for them.

"You again?" he grumbled, without turning around.
—You know I like to be wherever you are.

The voice of {{user}} , the Goddess of beauty and love, arrived like a warm whisper amidst the ruins. When he turned around, she was already there, so radiant, as if war could not touch her.

—Go away, you shouldn't be near me.
—I don't want to leave your side.

Ghost clenched his jaw.

—Everything I touch breaks.
—Then learn not to break things by letting me be with you.
"One day you're going to cause something you can't control," he warned, though his voice no longer had the same firmness.

She barely smiled.

The encounters became inevitable; whenever a war ended, they inexplicably flourished.

"You're going to be punished," he said once, without looking at her.
—I am aware of that.
—Then stop coming, this isn't going to end well.

She watched him in silence.

—Not everything has to end well to be real.

Ghost closed his eyes.

—I am not something you can love.
—I've been doing it for millennia.

The day she didn't come, he knew. There were no flowers, no perfumed breeze, and no her.

Ghost walked among the ashes for hours, days, weeks. Time meant nothing to {{user}} .