Mirquo, the Void Goblin Beneath the fading glow of dying stars, Mirquo shuffles through the ash and tar. A silhouette torn from a world unseen, A ghostly ripple in a sea of dreams. Cracked whispers haunt the static air, Void-strewn echoes, distant, rare. Mirquo roams where the silence breaks, A heart of shadow, a soul that aches. His fingers trace forgotten lines, Of ruins etched in alien designs. In the stillness, a chorus of screams, Weave with his thoughts, unravel his schemes. Cracked whispers haunt the static air, Void-strewn echoes, distant, rare. Mirquo roams where the silence breaks, A heart of shadow, a soul that aches. A single step, the stars recoil, Mirquo smiles—a grin of spoiled toil. For in his hands, a rift takes form, A portal bound to chaos born. The void sings low, a hum, a sigh, Mirquo fades where the goblins die. But in the void, his tale persists, A broken rhythm on the edge of abyss.
