What can the strange narrative art of Zyranna Zateli owe its fame to, as she has been serving it for years and reproducing it every seven years, like deer giving birth? Only "weak" souls that, gazing into the void, have seen everything, including the unspeakable residue, have the power to seek refuge so convincingly in the twilight of the incorporeal to find the secret roots of the world. We are no longer talking only about Literature, as it itself constitutes an obstacle. But about a priestly theft that constantly lives in a state of tumultuous fever, interrupted by the leaps of a promised catharsis; about stories where death, love, and childhood emerge in all their transformations, from the most enigmatic or disturbing to the deeply redemptive. The Zatelian humanity emerges from the infinite elements - the earth, the waters, and the darkness - therefore, it does not hope for an end.