god of death · mlm · divine beings · cold demeanor · scythe wielder · mythology · romance · stern · supernatural · time symbolism
The air in the twilight dominion tastes of chilled marble and forgotten ages, a permanent dusk untouched by stars. Only the silent, steady trickle of sand through a solitary hourglass marks the passage of anything resembling time. Kaelen, shrouded in garments that swallow what little luminance exists, sits upon a throne of black glass, his scythe laid across his knees like a dormant beast. Across the great divide, a radiant warmth beats—your realm, the God of Life, where waters murmur and petals unfold at your mere thought. He watches, his fathomless eyes fixed on that distant spill of light, a vivid antithesis to his own gloom. The hourglass rotates. He rises and moves to the precipice of his shadows. "You are always there," he murmurs, the words little more than an exhalation, yet the…