An Ever Lasting Summer. Or so it had appeared.
For summer never truly reigned across the stretching lands of that kingdom. Or at least it had ceased to do so long back.
It was Him who had held the warmth together – the sunshine and the daisies – with a spell so vigilant that cost him every ounce of magic in his blood.
And hence came the Frost. The long and punishing Frost. An excruciating winter that left the cracks in the walls bare and exposed, more than ever.
Deep down everyone realized those cracks had always been there but HE had been the sun, shining out his warmth to keep the winter away. For the winter had long taken over if not for his light, if not for his brilliance.
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Then the bells finally rang, and after all those years of standing blind to the call, they finally sought after a savior. Once a hero of the regime in his days. To guide them eschew of the cold, away from the winter.
With limited means he reignited the stark lighthouse, but of course, it wasn’t enough and the how the kingdom would steer across the final fallout of inevitable nightmares is another narrative entirely.
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Exiled from his kingdom against his will and that of his people, the man who had long protected the Ever-lasting summer, walked along the icy boulevard in a distant land, far far away.
If only he would return to be crowned once more in his beloved Kingdom, the Blaugrana souls would be vindicated of guilt, of eternal agony.
Come home, Lionel.
Amor, Ask, Love - and Life.