PLUS
There is no synopsis for this novel.
A synopsis implies a narrative with a beginning, a middle, and an end. A hero's journey. A climax. A resolution.
This is not that.
This is a world. It is as real as the one outside your window, but this is the one you cannot reach. It has no chosen one, no great evil to defeat, no final chapter where the meaning is revealed. It has only the past accumulating into the present, rolling forward into a future that is not a destination, but a continuous state of being.
It contains people. They are born, they love, they betray, they wage petty wars and dream grand dreams, they grow cold from seeing too much, and they die. Then others do the same. The world does not care. It continues.
A story can end. A world cannot. Even when there is nothing but dust and silence under a cold star, it is not an ending. It is just the world, being what it is.
This is a record of that. For as long as it is witnessed.
(I am a student from Bangladesh, so my English sometimes has grammatical and spelling problems. Sorry for that.
As a high schooler, I only get 2 to 3 hours of free time per day, and I use that time to write. Everything in this novel is my own work—I even paid someone to make the cover art for me. I can't guarantee it's good, but I believe it's way better than some AI-generated novels you might find. Sorry if the chapters are short; I will always try to make them longer.
To me, the people in this world are as real as the people in the one I live in. Please respect them.
This story might be strange or imperfect because I write whatever comes to my mind and I never change the ideas. I only correct things like grammar and spelling.)