SILENCE WATCHED THE ABYSS.

They call this land, Nefarith, the land of sins—subsequently where fallen angels thirst to sin like a parched land. We're concealed under the shadows, far beyond the heavens where sadness lingers like the scent of perfume coating the rotten flesh. Pointless, we have always stretch forth our dreams to thee, the divine being up in the sky, though at last; our no-longer-sacred dreams were never have been answered.

We've been thrown unto this land like we're no longer useful to the Gods.

Why do the principals exist?

...Why do angels exist?

Why do we firmly believe that the lives of the angels will always be safe?

Ultimately, does 'God' still regard angels as their creation?

—Though at last; your question will never be answered.

For to thee I lift up my soul like a lamb waiting to be sacrificed.

Long time ago, there was a letter, written by a nameless 'fallen.' The content inside was a mess. It was filled with random scribbles, but after a few times of examining, the hybrids have successfully able to see the real content inside the letter.

The letter was not that any different of a sin confession;

"We're all used to be a kind angel.

On the contrary, we're all used to stay at Solandis.

After the change of the principal's order, we've been stranded here. In the land where humans live,

In the land where committing sins was oftentimes appropriate.

And with the crystals slowly consuming our nerves alongside our streaming blood.

This is a sentence. This is a life sentence. "I must endure this sin." I mutter to myself everytime in order to keep up with this.

But I would never presume and comprehend, that the numbness were a sign that I'm gradually dying.

Aethers, keeper of the gate ... if possible, if it is really possible..

Until then, please—throw my corpse and my shade to the land of Nethergate.

Don't deliver me; throw me.

I have sinned."

I haven't read the letter before. But the contents, it was similar to what I had read in one of the opus about the fallen. Eerily, we can still feel sorrow, joy, and anger between eachother. As long as this halo is attached to our brain. Being a fallen doesn't mean you weren't qualified as an angel before and afterwards, we're coequal. Being a fallen simply means to never have a contiguity with the heavens.

Now, we see the birth and death of the universe swimming around in your eyes,

Eternal ██ monoliths of ████, ███.

█████ have our attention.

Haunt us in all of your ways, █████.

"This is where the oldest of saints lie, Aethers Ephraim, Ghazir, and Luciel—the Nethergate."

"Those who have lied were the embodiment of all the virtues of mankind."

Strangely, we find ourselves flustered by all this. It is not the answer we sought. It is not something mankind is capable of interpreting or establish.

Behind the wall is the Nethergate, then the land of paradise, Solandis.

They say Solandis is Paradise. A land of freedom, happiness, and order that's everything in the whole world. This place is one of the few remaining paradise in this chaotic world. Why is there only one Solandis, God? Why is it called 'Paradise?' If the peace crumbles before our eyes in the land of Paradise, will the world continue to tolerate Paradise? The wild imagination of the fallen is not something that can be guessed by interpretation, analysis, debate, or reform...

For the place of Nethergate itself, is not a matter of whether you believe it or not, why you believe it, or how you believe it...

In such a manner...

This place exists.