The world of Praboh fell like a pile of stones, scattered like a sand dune, strewn plunged as a tree smashed down by a gale.

Nothing was left of the love that brought life to existence, nothing of the wisdom that filled the skies and poured into human hearts. The Earth, destined to be the place of divine gatherings and the vale of joy, was bathed in blood and tears, and envy and violence became its salt.

The divine tears have dried up. The divine call has fallen silent. Praboh was lonely, disgraced, and choked with regret. He cowered and faded, and nothing but sorrow moved the strings of his being.

He craved to hide in the farthest part of the skies, and since the skies are infinite, he will not be at ease for all eternity.

No one feels sorry for him, and no one remembers him. The first of the gods fell – an eternal outcast. His name was forgotten, and now he is known as the Ancient God.

It is a sad ending for a legend – and even I am sad about it!

Whoever has some humanity left in their heart still shall cry a tear in the name of Praboh!