“There was no fall.

  Only the slow crumbling of things too tired to stand.”

  They did not fall all at once.

  There was no final explosion.

  No cry of defiance.

  No grand collapse.

  The old world eroded —

  grain by grain,

  breath by breath,

  until nothing remained but silence.

  **

  The machines, once shrieking endless prayers,

  grew quiet.

  Their cores burned out,

  their circuits surrendered to time they could no longer resist.

  The great towers,

  monuments to forgotten dreams,

  bowed under their own weight,

  burying the last sanctuaries beneath rotted steel and dust.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  **

  The last humans did not rage.

  They did not pray.

  They did not resist.

  They faded —

  as if existence itself

  had simply become too heavy to bear.

  **

  Anor’Ven watched.

  Not with sorrow.

  Not with relief.

  Only with the cold certainty:

  “It was inevitable.”

  **

  He wandered across dead cities,

  across fields of cracked stone and empty rivers,

  through the husks of a world that no longer remembered its own name.

  At the end,

  there was only him,

  the wind,

  and the ruins.

  **

  The final human breath he heard

  shaped no word.

  Only a weak, broken sound —

  the last tremble of a voice

  that could no longer believe.

  Then —

  silence.

  **

  The world slept.

  Centuries passed.

  Perhaps millennia.

  The stone swallowed the bones of the old machines.

  The moss devoured the forgotten roads.

  The oceans reclaimed their ancient dominions.

  The forests crowned themselves again over the broken teeth of empires.

  Time folded into itself,

  slow, formless, unseen.

  **

  And still,

  Anor’Ven moved.

  Not because he hoped.

  Not because he feared.

  Not even because he chose.

  He moved

  because he could not stop.

  Because no end awaited

  for something that had already outlived

  the very meaning of life itself.

  He moved,

  because existence —

  cold, hollow, eternal —

  was the only thing left

  he could not refuse

  Thank you so much for reading Fatefall Fable up to this point.

  It really means a lot to me that you’ve taken the time to walk this far alongside the story.

  I know the beginning may feel slow at times — but that’s because every silence, every small moment matters.

  The real weight of the journey is just starting to show.

  In the chapters ahead, you’ll find more introspection, deeper struggles, and battles that carry real consequences.

  This world isn’t about heroes or villains — it’s about endurance, about silence, about the invisible scars left by time.

  If you’ve stayed until now, I truly hope you’ll stay a little longer.

  There’s so much more to uncover.

  Thank you for your trust, and for giving this story a chance.

  Let’s see how far we can go.