She lingered in the high shadows, where light dared not reach.
The sanctuary lay below, fractured and beautiful — like everything that remained. Her wings stirred, barely visible, curling like smoke before fading into nothing. What was once radiant was now uncertain, translucent, a thing not wholly of Heaven nor Earth.
She had watched him play.
The music was simple, but there was truth in it. Not the kind sung by choirs of light, nor written in Heaven's endless archives, but something raw. A note between sorrow and hope. A sound she had not heard in centuries.
She had nearly stepped forward.
He had sensed her. She had seen it in the tilt of his head, the sudden pause in his playing. The way his breath caught. A recognition that had no name yet. Something ancient, still unformed.
But she could not. Not yet.
Her grace — fractured. Her purpose — tangled in prophecy and exile. To reveal herself now would be to place a weight on him he hadn't chosen to bear. And she… she was not ready to see the question in his eyes. Not when she still questioned herself.
What right did she have to reach for something so human?
Wind whispered across the ruins, carrying fragments of his melody. She closed her eyes, letting it brush against her like a memory of warmth. She remembered what it was to sing — not just in harmony, but with feeling. That was before the fall. Before judgment became more than command.
She drifted back, higher into the sky, where even the stars dared not judge her. A dark one pulsed faintly in the distance — unseen by most, but she felt its call.
The dark star was waking. The music had begun.
And so, she would wait. Watch. Protect — from a distance.
Until he was ready.Or until the world demanded otherwise.