Ash was so consumed while reading the books that he lost track of time. Even though his body and mind were tired, his thoughts remained clear, absorbing everything written in those pages with surprising ease, as if the words were meant for him and him alone.
"Without Death, there can be no life, and without life, Death waits unfulfilled."
Death was not created by anyone. Death simply was. It had always existed, silent and unmoving, watching the birth and fall of all things. It did not hunger, it did not rage, it simply observed, as patient as the endless void.
When life appeared, Death did not hate it. Death did not try to destroy it. Instead, it became life's silent partner, walking alongside it without ever speaking a word. For life without an ending is not life at all, it is endless suffering without rest.
