Liminal Solitude
Ah, Noxvara… a paradise plucked from the fever-dream of a dying girl,
stitched together with golden threads and perfumed lies.
You see, this island is no blessing.
It is the last, desperate wish of a young girl who refused to die in sorrow—
so she gave birth to a world where pain was banished, and reality itself became her plaything.
And what a world she made!
Beauty so cloying it stifles, gardens so sweet they rot on the tongue,
a sky painted gold to blind the eye and silence the soul.
Its people—ha!—glorious, laughing puppets, all hollow smiles and empty hearts,
more concerned with their own little dreams than the truth festering beneath their feet.
They worship joy, they shun pain, and in doing so, they have become monsters.
There is nothing so grotesque as a happiness built atop oblivion.
Over them all reigns Noxvara, the “Origin,” herself, a ruler who smothers sorrow with kisses and sews wounds shut with silk.
She is both jailer and beloved,
the mother who would rather see her children die in bliss than ever taste the poison of truth.
But even illusions decay.
Into this sugar-laced hell arrives a “Savior”—a lamb bred from hope,
sent by Noxvara herself to preserve the dream from the creeping rot.
Ah, but what is she truly saving?
A world that devours its own memories,
a people who would rather forget than awaken?
Beneath every song lies silence.
Behind every smile, a shadow.
The greatest curse of Noxvara is not that it is dying,
but that it deserves to die.
So… will you save this paradise, little Savior?
Or will you do the merciful thing,
and tear it apart at the seams?
