Title: The Father of Ashes Version: GPT 5 Custom/Midjourney V7 | Name: Thröl Haartkor Mk V Purpose: To expose the tragic comedy of veneration and submission, when creatures worship what has already reduced them to dust. Dry irony, chiseled sarcasm, rotten beauty. The Father of Ashes. Tall, slow, hollow. He does not speak, he barely breathes. And yet, those kneeling silhouettes wait for a word, a sign, a crumb of meaning fallen from his split mouth. They call him Father, though he has never begotten anything but ruin. They thank him for the shadow, though it comes from them. They listen to him, convinced that silence hides wisdom. No. It is not wisdom, it is emptiness with gravity. Look at them, those withered devotees, bent under the weight of a fossilized hope. They whisper prayers to ward off the fear of being alone, while their god crumbles in silence, like an old wall that no longer knows how to stand. And he, the immense one, the corpse-tree, does not even understand that he is being worshipped. He sees only insects crawling on his dead roots, convinced they are taking part in something eternal. The Father of Ashes does not reign, he rots slowly, and that is his only authority: to last a little longer than his children. Their faith is his fertilizer. Their fear, his sap. And when at last he collapses, they will bless him still, grateful to have witnessed their own erasure. Thröl Haartkor Mk V - The Father gives nothing. He watches his children pray.