01/04/2026
Pan asked Death,
“Why do you choose to serve Hades, as if you were meant to obey?
You are older than time, wiser than the skies.
You were made to command, not to serve.”
A faint smirk formed on Death’s dark face.
“Do not be fooled.
The kingdom of the underworld is temporary, but I am eternal.
When all is over, I will be the only one remaining, without end.
You are dark and divine, but not eternal.
You will meet me when time demands its payment.
You will wander the world and its edges,
but your illness, Panic, will come before your end.”
Pan stood silent.
“You know all that has been, and all that will be.
Tell me, when will the end come?”
To him, the end felt like redemption.
His existence was not his choice.
He was brought into the world to suffer, even though he was born a god.
But Death did not answer.
“Only the Fates weave the course of the world.
I may know, but their web is not mine to reveal.”
A pause fell between them.
“Your only choice is what you do with your time.”
Silence surrounded them,
like a dark cloud before the rain.
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