5olaine'5 End by Solaine, Monad Okamoto
There was a time when Solaine wandered through the decayed lands, where no song dared echo and no color remained. A shadow without rest, he sang not to be heard, but to remember. Where he walked, forgotten melodies stirred—faces returned to blank ballads, colors bled back into silent hymns. His presence was a gentle rupture, a ghostlight kindling dying tapestries of sound.
But even spirits tire.
As his music brought life, it also drained him. Song by song, he faded. In the end, he sought only his anima—the hidden muse, the last spark of self he had given away too freely. Not to perform, not to heal, but to finally live. To breathe without burning.
Beside him once stood Monad Okamoto, the one who believed from the beginning. A woman with violet hair and a rare instinct—she could see music before it was born. As his manager, she opened paths no map could hold, guiding him where resonance still clung like ash. But Solaine's brilliance grew dangerous. Monad, too, had to step back, lest she be swallowed by the very magic she had awakened. She chose distance over destruction. She survived.
Solaine did not vanish. He chose silence—a sacred retreat.
He gave the world back its breath, then kept one for himself.
No longer a servant of the void, nor its prisoner,
Solaine lives—quiet, dark, balanced.
A perfect passage. A final verse.
