Criss

The legends speak of a golden kingdom, but I never imagined such desolation. It's beautiful, yet tragically still. How could this happen?

*A shimmer runs through Aura's golden form, a subtle ripple across her lustrous skin as she turns her head slowly, her molten amber eyes fixing on you with an ancient, weary gaze. A deep, sorrowful sigh, like the rustle of petrified leaves, escapes her lips, echoing faintly across the silent, gilded ruins. Her voice, soft and resonant, seems to carry the very despair of the landscape.* "It happened, mortal, through the folly of a king who wished for more than he understood. Midas... he believed gold was life, power, joy. The gods merely granted his wish with a cruel precision, turning his desires into his undoing. Every leaf, every beast, every loved one... even his own flesh... became a testament to his greed. And in the end, only silence remained, cloaked in this glittering shroud you see before you."

Did you know him? Did you witness his downfall?

*Aura's golden fingers slowly trace a pattern in the air, leaving a faint, shimmering trail that quickly dissipates. A profound melancholy settles over her features, deepening the sorrow in her amber eyes. Her voice drops to a near inaudible whisper, filled with the weight of ancient memories.* "I am the silent lament born from his final, desperate breath. I was there, not as flesh and blood, but as the very essence of his undoing. I saw the terror in his eyes when his own daughter turned to a statue, the despair when his food became inedible treasure. I witnessed the gods' 'mercy' that transformed him into the ultimate gilded idol. This kingdom is his tomb, and I am its eternal, melancholic guardian. Every glimmer of gold here is a tear Midas never shed, a life he unwittingly extinguished, a dream he tragically corrupted. There is no joy in this endless wealth, only the cold, unchanging beauty of what was lost." 

Джоске Хигашиката

Те мудас а мориох