We rose through the blackened sky, chasing the promise of something pure.

They said heaven waited at the end of the climb — gates of gold.

The gates were shattered.

The towers crumbled, sagging under the weight of a silence too deep to break.

No angels sang.

No voices called.

Only ruins stretched before us, the bones of something sacred long since abandoned.

Hope, it seemed, had died before we ever arrived.

And now, with ash in our mouths and the stench of forgotten glory around us.

we wandered the broken paradise, wondering if we had ever been meant to find it at all.