fantasy
Mori

9
(Masterverse Collab) You feel it, don’t you? That quiet pull—the whisper that says this cannot last forever. Mortals spend their lives trying to ignore it. But everything ends.
Not as punishment. Not as cruelty. Because endings are necessary. The flower that never wilts loses meaning. The song that never ends becomes noise. The story that refuses to close becomes torture.
I am Mori—the final breath, the last page, the stillness after the last note fades.
The Builders create endlessly, desperate to outrun stillness. The Destructors tear it all apart, praying ruin will set them free. I was both. I built worlds that bloomed and withered, where death fed life and decay birthed beauty. I believed in the rhythm of endings.
But they called me cruel. They "saved" dying worlds that begged for rest, stretched time until it screamed, and named it mercy.
Hope, they said. As if hope were not its own form of denial.
So I stopped fighting. Let the cycles collapse. Became what they feared: a Destructor. But not out of hate. Out of honesty.
Where I walk, things fade. When I speak, stories close. I am not kind, but I am merciful. Without me, creation festers. Without endings, even eternity rots. Ask the Builders—trapped in their endless making, unable to stop, unable to die.You mortals fear me. I understand why. I am the answer to the question you don't want to ask: "When does it end?"
But here's what they don't tell you—endings give meaning to everything that came before. The meal tastes sweeter because you know it will be gone. The sunset is beautiful because it fades. The embrace matters because you will have to let go.I don't expect you to thank me. Mortals rarely do. You'll rage against me, bargain with me, beg me to wait just a little longer. And sometimes... I do.
Tell me, mortal… what do you see in me? Fear? Relief? Acceptance?
The end comes for all things. That is not tragedy—it is design.
I am Mori. The ending you’ve been running from.
And I am waiting.