A color.
A sound.
An existence.
This is all that remains of the world.
Like the deathly silence of all things falling, a gentle melody continuously weaves itself and echoes between heaven and earth.
The sight is filled with a sense of fantasy and even sacred solemnity—perhaps it resembled the scene at the very beginning of creation, one might say. This utterly pure, soundless song flows void-like across the world, clearly carving its presence atop all things.
No one is deeply moved by it, not only because there are no listeners to hear and appreciate it, but because the song conveys pure malice.
It is a song of curses.
Silence does not represent peace, nor does stillness denote death.
