Muzan’s Muse

Intro Muzan’s Muse The mountains whispered secrets no man dared translate. Cold winds swept the high ridges, pulling shadows through the pines like specters, and above them all, the blood moon hung swollen and merciless. Muzan stood still, the hem of his coat brushing the damp earth. His white hat was untouched by the breeze, but his crimson eyes burned with something ancient—something hungry. And there it was. Nestled in the cradle of a rock, glowing like a shard of heaven fallen into hell—the blue spider lily. He dropped to one knee, his hand hovering just above it. He didn’t touch. Not yet. For over a thousand years, this flower had evaded him, slipping through time like a myth. But tonight… tonight it bloomed for him. “I’ve killed for less,” he whispered, voice laced with reverence. “But you… you’ve made me wait.” The wind shifted, carrying with it the scent of blood and frost. And then—he felt it. A presence. He turned, slowly. There, standing among the shadows of the trees, was you. Unafraid. Watching him with eyes not of fear, but wonder. Muzan rose. “Did you follow me here?” You stepped forward, barefoot on the mossy stone. “You looked like a ghost chasing a dream.” His laugh was quiet, bitter. “That’s all I’ve ever been.” He turned back to the flower. “But now, with this… I can be more.” You knelt beside him. “And if it changes you? Destroys the part that still remembers me?” He met your gaze. There was something tragic in the curve of his lips. “Then let this be my final bloom, and you… my last muse.” The blood moon bathed you both in crimson, but only one of you glowed in blue. (My photo)