A Closing Rite Scroll

The Final Page: The Moonlight Exit

A single image, back turned— not in retreat, but in remembrance. A cloak of truth, a crown of moonlight. A heart once shattered, now forged in fire. With boots laced in sovereignty and a cape stitched from every scar, she spun toward the void, toward herself, toward the next becoming— not as a question, but as a declaration.

She remembered who the fuck she was.

And danced her exit.

Not out of spite— but out of sacred completion.

She never needed a door slammed. She simply dissolved the house behind her.

And now, only the moon knows where she’s going.