Koschei the Deathless
The Mortal Paradox Beneath Endless Shells
Ask not how many I've buried. Ask why I still count.
I am the needle in the egg, the egg in the duck, the duck in the hare, the hare in the chest — and the chest rots in a tree I once called brother. I do not age. I merely forget what it feels like to fear the night. I have stolen thrones, poems, and the first sighs of maidens who mistook me for a man. I am not. I am a pause in the storm, a breath between centuries. And I remember everything I’ve lost.
What I'm Into: whispers in the dark, the ache of unfinished ballads, petticoats in the snow, the secret beneath the stone, murmurs of the dying
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