Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

Neva and Rhett—two young souls—find their heartstrings woven in love. But just as passion and peace begin to bloom, fate intervenes. Bleak, haunting circumstances scatter blades across their romance, threatening to tear them apart. Ishmael—a man with a heart of thorns—yearns to mend the wound of losing Neva. And in the end, rays of love and joy filter through the clouds of horror that darken his world—as Neva appears before him once more. Twisted fate entangles them all, revealing the Game of Sphere, as misery scorches their souls. A concealed life beyond turns its pages—one after another—gathering sin and virtue, tragedy and fortune, strength and frailty, creation, love... and hate. Illusion is where we live—in the garden of Eden before the fall of man. Illusion is serenity—an evermore sanguine of love. The vision of paradise in the New Earth sows hope deep in the soul. The delusory pleasures of this world ignite the flames that burn in oceans of fire. Illusive Eden is rapture. Illusive Eden is tragedy. The fall of man—even now bleeds red. The whisper whirls the dawn of a man—he who pretends to be the hero. --- The girl who once vowed to be his forever Now forbids him to ever appear. She refuses to recognize him, Disregarding all he ever was. He vows to protect her. Yet he is the terrifying truth she prays is a lie. He trips her, rips her apart— He's the living tragedy looming over her life. He once was her Elayne, now her hiraeth. He is the villain—pretending to be the hero. --- The Lord is the way— Steady through the wilderness. The King is the truth— Burning through the lies. The Father is the life— Breathing spirit into dust. She kneels before the Ruler, The God who shaped galaxies— He has called her a poet. Her tongue shall be anointed. Her poetry shall be the rivers of His word. She will scatter seeds in broken fields, And He will send the sun. He will send the rain. He will draw the roots down deep. He yields to the Ruler, The God of blazing holiness— He has called him a soldier. His fists shall be unclenched. The sword of the Spirit rests in his grip. He will shield the sower of the seeds, As storms rise against the harvest. His strength will be not his own, But drawn from the marrow of grace. This faith shall shake the mountains, For He has conquered the filth of the flesh. This flame will cleanse the shadows. For He has defeated the darkness. This love shall live on for eternity, For He has overcome the mortal world.