Fate had already made its arrangements. Amid the confusion and chaos of a troubled age, I kept my heart as still as water. Only at the end of my life did I understand: I was born to die, and doomed to perish in order to survive.
If I was meant to be king, why was I not allowed to be one? If I was destined to perish, why was it so hard to let go? Why must this vast and mysterious realm's burden fall on me alone?
Where does life begin? Where does death begin? Or are life and death bound together from the start?
I merely traded a lifetime of hardship for a thousand years of peace!
Men all have white wings... Angel? Birdman?
Looks like I have to comment by myself