Miss You

Miss You


Gatekeeper sat beside his friend atop a hill, overlooking an open field. They had just completed the creation of this landscape together, as yet another addition to their paradise. They found peace in this cathartic ritual, this pure expression of creativity. The scene was breathtaking, a stunning testament to their divine powers. For a moment, the two admired their handiwork, lost in the beauty of their creation.

For some time, there was only silence between the two companions. It was not one of contentment, however, but rather sadness. The weight of their worry was palpable, and they both felt it, as if a dark cloud hung over them. Gudang was the first to speak, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was soft and filled with uncertainty, a far cry from her usual optimistic self. “I am afraid you may have been right, brother…”
Gatekeeper looked upon her in confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”
“The mortals. You worried of their interference in our lives. I told you that your concerns were unfounded. Yet now, I find myself questioning it. Nothing has been the same since the massacre, since the urprising…”
Gatekeeper felt a sense of vindication, yet he was concerned and disheartened to hear his sister say such things. Normally, she would be one lifting everyone else’s spirits, but now, even she seemed to struggle to hold onto hope. “Why?” he asked her.
“We have lost many of our other companions, whether to death or delusion. I feel that this fate could have been avoided, had we not allowed the mortals to remain here.” Tears began forming in her eyes. “I worry they will squander my gifts. That they will take me for granted. That I may eventually fade, and be forgotten.”
Gatekeeper’s heart broke for Gudang. It troubled him to see her morale fall so low. So, he made his best effort to reassure her. “Do not despair, sister. We may yet regain their favor.”

There was a subtle shift in the air, and Gatekeeper suddenly felt uneasy. Gudang turned towards him to reveal a face that was not of flesh, but rather marble, permanently plastered in a melancholy frown. “you lied.”

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