Death.
An end, that never ended.
Did the Goddess never tire, of this endless theater?
Actors made to dance to her tune forevermore providing entertainment in her sandbox.
But was was more cruel?
A Goddess who watches.
Or no Goddess at all?
Pillars rose in patterns of six on either side of the lavish court, where the ground was laiden with a golden threat embroided red carpet, and the window above the lords seat, was a magnificent creation, depicting the descent of the very Goddess herself.
A faceless divinity, blessing their ancestor.
Creedon.
An oath, and a promise.
Lords and Commoners.
To serve.
To protect.
Garter's eyes slowly fell upon the throne.
It too was lavish.
Studded with jewels, and carved with insignificance.
Death.
It had not taken him.
No...
His heart beat, he felt it, after so long.
...He had been spared it.