(UNDER THE PALE OF GLOW OF A DYING MOON. STAND TRAPPED BETWEEN THE ECHOES OF ETERNITY) / .... he whispers of the abyss. The night calls my name in a voice laced with longing, wrapping me in velvet shadows, cold as the grave. Love is but a fleeting illusion, a delicate waltz between passion and demise.

Would you bleed for devotion? Would you shatter for desire? Would you die tonight, not for fear, nor fate, but for love itself?