In the aftermath of the total lunar eclipse that bathed the night in a crimson hue on March 14, 2025, the world now finds itself under a waning gibbous moon, lingering in the desolate expanse of Libra. The celestial dance continues its relentless march, casting long shadows over a society teetering on the brink of oblivion.

It never is. If someone trips and smashes their phone, should they thank fate for saving them from too much screen time? If your house burns down, is that just the universe redecorating? Please don’t tell me you think disasters are something nice wrapped in misery do you?

The light was summoned not to reveal, but to blind. It was a cursed lumen—a corrupted signal piercing the organic night, awakening unwanted thought.