The morning light slowly crept up the sky, its pale orange and golden hues cautiously spreading over the city. The car glided along the road with a soft hum, our convoy moving forward in disciplined order. The ruler's car rolled two vehicles ahead of us, as if the distance itself reinforced the power gap between us.
I sat in the back seat, flanked by two figures in dark clothing. Their movements were not restrictive; they did not chain me, nor did they hold me as a prisoner—yet something heavy and intangible lingered between us. Their mere presence was enough to make me feel the gravity of the situation. The general sat in front of me, rigid, back straight as always. We did not speak to each other.
We passed through the gates, and the cityscape gradually unfolded before us. Rindanof… In the golden morning light, the square pulsed with life. Angels strolled in groups, laughing, as if nothing had happened. Their movements were light, their steps hovering over the ground as if they were walking on air. A dreamlike purity surrounded them—as if their world remained untouched by everything that had been spoken at the table.
The convoy moved slowly toward the academy. In the open courtyards of the training grounds, movements cut through the air—angels sparring, swords clashing, shadows flickering across the ground. My eyes instinctively searched for familiar figures. I looked for the small black-haired ones, the ones I had gotten along with since my arrival. But I did not see them. They were probably on a mission… or on duty. For a moment, I lingered, watching the warriors. I hope the lack of a year's wages won't break them…
The cars veered toward the castle. This was my second time here, and once again, not for a good reason. The shadows that had fallen upon me last time were still here. The massive gate slowly opened before us, and I knew that whatever awaited inside would not be easier than what I had left behind.
As the convoy came to a halt, the soft hum of the engine faded, and for a moment, everything was still. I was not afraid. I felt no sorrow either. I sat just as firmly in my seat as I had when I had cast out every distracting emotion. I knew what I had done, and I did not regret it.
Stepping out of the car in front of the castle, I initially saw nothing beyond the other vehicles. But then… well, who else could have been waiting there if not that arrogant woman? She stood in a white dress, much like the first time I saw her, when I had awakened on the marble table. Her expression remained unchanged: cold, composed, lifeless, as if nothing could truly touch her. Her cynical gaze locked onto me, and as I passed her, for a fleeting moment, I thought that perhaps, for once, she wouldn't say anything.
I was wrong.
"There are no words for this," she whispered softly, but just loud enough for me to hear.
I did not stop. I did not react. I just kept walking—because I had far more important matters to attend to. People like her thrived on pointing out others' mistakes, on attacking those who strayed from the path of law. Perhaps she was right, perhaps I had truly broken every rule that existed. Perhaps speaking to the ruler the way I did was not just defiance but treason. Or something even worse. But he deserved it. Oh, how he did.
The sound of my footsteps echoed through the long corridors. Motion-sensor lights flickered on one by one in my wake. I studied the statues, their cold marble faces, silent witnesses to everything that had transpired here. Then I reached that room. The place where I had first awakened within the city walls.
But now, it was different.
The last time, the dark-clad figures had surrounded the room, but now they only escorted me to the entrance before closing the doors behind me.
In the vast, open space stood a single figure.
A woman.
That woman.
She did not need to smile for me to feel her calm presence. I hardly knew her, yet there was something infinitely soothing about her. For a brief moment, I let go of all tension. If I had to close my eyes forever, at least it would be in her presence—and not in the company of the woman who had waited at the gate.
I walked forward with determination. I knew why I was here. And no matter how much I had prepared for the consequences, one could never be entirely sure of what awaited them. Would I have to lie back on the marble table? Would I be exiled? Erased? I did not think these beings would torture me, yet one could never be certain. The ruler's decisions were unpredictable.
The woman watched me in silence before she spoke.
"Would you like to say something?"
That was the question that gave me pause. A final request? A confession?
But I was not the type to agonize over an answer. I did not waste time, I did not beg, I did not explain myself. If I had spoken, I would stand by my words.
"Thank you for the opportunity," I said with respect—because I truly respected her, even though I barely knew her. "But I feel that yesterday, I already said everything to the one who needed to hear it."
Determination vibrated in my voice. I was not one to follow the crowd. I was not someone who changed their mind simply because the majority demanded it. Yes, sometimes one had to bow their head to survive—but there were moments when they could not. When they must not. When truth was more important than the consequences. And I had chosen that path.
The woman did not speak. She simply gave a small nod, then, in a gentle voice, asked me to lie on the table.
As I looked up at the marble slab, I realized how high it was. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering how to climb up, but then instinct took over. I leapt onto it with ease, then slowly, deliberately, lay down.
My pulse quickened.
Not from fear.
But because I had not said goodbye to Elise. Or Clara. Or John.
But I knew this was best for everyone. So I did it. I closed my eyes.
The woman's palm rested gently on my forehead, then over my chest. Her touch brought peace. A kind of love. A deep silence in which all questions faded.
And then…
Light.
A single, blinding flash—then it was as if I had been dropped into another life.
Movement. People. A completely different setting. It was like watching a film unfold before my eyes. I tried to understand, to see my hands, turning them over, looking at them…
And then I saw myself.
A different me.
The woman was hurrying through the streets, her hair a deep, natural red, a beige dress hugging her form. I saw myself, and yet it was not me.
And as the streets twisted and turned, I began to follow her.
Where was I going?
And who was I now?
And then, my inner voice swallowed me whole.
For just a moment, Avarka saw her own face. It was not entirely her, yet it was as if a twisted, perfected version of herself had emerged. A part had been taken from her—another part had been added. It was as though a mirror had been placed before her, one that reflected not only her present self but also an imprint of another life.
Through the winding streets, she followed the unfamiliar figure until she finally stood before a vast garden.
In the silver glow of the night, white daffodils swayed in the wind. As she ran her fingers over the velvety petals, a strange, inexplicable peace embraced her.
And that was when she saw the woman.
She ran toward a man, her movements light yet weighted, as if she had waited a thousand years for this moment. As she touched him, her words fell into the air like a whisper:
"You're here, my love."
The man slowly turned around. His brown eyes were familiar—yet impossible to truly know.
His features were granted just enough time to be recognized before they dissolved into the fog of her consciousness.
Every movement between them was so intimate, it felt almost sinful to witness.
Above the daffodil fields, the air swirled with happiness, love, and the scent of a time long lost.
The fracture of memories.
In a single moment, I found myself in a completely different place. I couldn't decide whether my mind was playing tricks on me or if the woman intended to show me this. There's always that lingering doubt—just like in a dream. One moment, we're somewhere, and the next, we're somewhere else, with everything filling up with indescribable nonsense and incomprehensible events.
Now, too, everything shifted as if a dream were continuing, but in that moment, I couldn't tell: Is this really happening, or has it already happened? Or perhaps it is yet to happen? Or is my mind merely processing the events of the day, mixing them up entirely?
Ever since I learned about angels, I've come to believe many things. I believe in past lives, in the idea that the world is more than what one first perceives. But a person's reality is what they see. If I told an outsider that angels live among us, they would find it unbelievable. But if someone has been taught this since childhood, if it becomes part of their everyday life, it no longer seems like madness. However, something else—something we have yet to hear of—might seem just as absurd to them. And that's how it is for me. I have accepted this world, but if someone were to tell me now that I could personally shake hands with Lucifer, perhaps even I would hesitate.
And yet… I stood there, in a completely different place.
The space was vast, but the walls were high and unyielding, as if they wouldn't allow sounds to escape. The people watched in silence, as though they all felt the same weight pressing against their chests.
The woman stood on the platform, her figure perfectly outlined in the cold light. There was no doubt in me—she was the leader. The kind of person whose presence commands attention, whose words don't just reach people but burn into their consciousness.
"We have remained silent for too long," she began, her voice slicing through the silence with sharp clarity. "For too long, we have looked the other way. For too long, we have believed that others could rule over us, and that all we could do was accept the world as it is."
She slowly scanned the faces of the people, as if reminding them of something they had perhaps long forgotten.
"But the time has come not only to guard the sins of the past but to atone for them. Those who have sinned will close their eyes forever today. This is the price of a guilty act. If we do not act, too many will believe they can steal, lie, or deceive us without consequence."
A man stepped beside her. Charismatic, exuding strength, and as he stood next to the woman, his touch on her arm was firm yet intimate. They were together—not just physically, but on a deeper, unspoken level.
"Hear her words," the man spoke, his voice resonating deep and clear. "The tide of consequences is inevitable."
The crowd stirred as if an invisible force pulled them together as one. The guards lined up behind the woman and the man, then disappeared with them through the door behind the platform. There was tension in the air, their movements sharp, filled with emotion.
And then it hit me.
Like a deep, forgotten truth striking me in the gut.
As if some part of me already knew this had happened before. As if I had been part of it. As if my soul had already lived through something I was now forced to remember, whether I wanted to or not.
But if it was truly me, if in a past life I stood there, believing in these words… then it was painful to face it now, so raw, so unchangeable.
And if they wanted to use this against me? If they wanted me to change my decision about the ruler?
I would still say no.
Because even if that was me, I was nothing more than a person who had lost awareness of themselves. Someone who had been swept along by the moment. Back then, I made a logical decision—according to the logic of my world at the time. But now I know that it is the situation that shapes a person—and the ruler did not make such a decision. He saw clearly what he was doing.
And there is no excuse for that!
The world darkened once again. In that moment, I was trapped inside my own mind. As if I were both the observer and the one acting, all at once…
Avarka suddenly found herself on a cold floor. The space was timeless, as if she had stumbled into a fragment of another reality.
A modern bathroom stretched before her, with massive glass windows beyond which the city lights sparkled. Tall skyscrapers pierced the sky, their neon signs flickering with life, breathing energy into the night.
A woman sat in the bathtub, her strands of hair lazily floating on the water's surface. Across from her, a man knelt by the edge of the tub, his fingers gliding softly along her arm.
"You know what I feel, don't you?" the woman asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The man replied with a faint smile.
"I always knew."
"And did you know even when I wasn't here?"
The man paused, his gaze locking onto hers.
"I did. Because in some way, you were always here."
Avarka felt that these words weren't meant for her, yet she clung to them. As if she had spoken them herself. As if there was a hidden message buried within them, something she had yet to understand.
The woman lifted her hand, her fingers trailing along the man's face.
"And if I told you to stay?"
The man's expression tensed for just a moment before he smiled.
"You know I can't."
The woman inhaled deeply, closing her eyes.
"But if you could?"
The man slowly leaned in.
"Then I would never leave."
The moment stretched between them, as if time itself held its breath.
Avarka took a step forward. The marble floor groaned softly beneath her weight.
Then, at the edge of darkness, something moved. A pair of deep, emerald-green eyes flickered in the dim light—watching, waiting.
And Avarka knew she was not alone.
He knew who he was facing. In an instant, the glass wall that had separated him from what he had only observed shattered—now he was part of the scene. As he stepped forward, he submerged into the cool water of the bathtub, and the woman he had seen until now seemed to vanish as if she had never existed. She dissolved into mist, and he took her place. But the world did not pause for even a moment. As if it had always been meant to be this way, as if he had merely returned to himself.
The man did not hesitate. His fingers glided softly along Avarka's shoulder, and his touch felt so natural, as if he had known every movement of her body for a thousand years. Avarka's breath deepened—not out of fear, not from confusion—but because something else, something familiar, surged within her. A new yet old sensation. As if her consciousness was not solely her own, as if she had just regained a lost piece of herself. Memories pulsed within her, thoughts she had never thought before yet somehow belonged to her. A past life that now merged with her present.
The man leaned closer, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered:
— So, you've reconnected?
Avarka did not answer immediately. She just sat there, letting the emotions flow through her, then slowly lifted her hand and placed it on the edge of the bathtub. Her fingers left wet traces on the cold porcelain. She gazed out through the window at the skyscrapers, watching the neon signs flicker, the endless night swallowing the city whole. Then, finally, she spoke—her voice quiet, yet cuttingly sharp:
— Why now?
The man took a deep breath. The water rippled gently around them, as if even time itself was breathing with them.
Avarka slowly turned toward him, and for the first time, truly looked into his eyes. His emerald-green gaze was like the sky before a storm, filled with suppressed promises.
— Because we need each other. We were both tense. I wanted to feel you again.
The words echoed in Avarka's mind, but it felt as though they were not only meant for her, but for all those who had ever been inside her, who had once been her.
In the lukewarm embrace of the water, in the proximity of the man's skin, in the touch of his hips and the intertwining reality of their bodies, Avarka's lips trembled.
— You know I would always stay by your side. Always. But…
The man smiled, but his smile was veiled, sorrowfully knowing.
— But you always want to know more.
Avarka gave a small nod.
— I want to know what it feels like to live overflowing with emotions. What it's like when a single decision rewrites destinies. I want to know what it's like when a person believes they are doing the right thing, yet they do not understand what they have truly changed. I want to feel the weight of difficult choices, the pain, the joy. How can I be a celestial being if I have not lived through it all? I can only help a human with full understanding if I have walked every path of life. Wealth, poverty, war… And I want to know… — her voice faded, then returned with newfound strength — …why I am always drawn back to where I came from.
The man ran his fingers down her neck, murmuring barely audible words:
— Sometimes, sweet ignorance is better.
The words hung between them, both heavy and weightless. Avarka's heart pounded, her body moved instinctively as she wrapped her legs around the man's waist. She felt their souls and bodies moving together in a silent dance.
The man rested his forehead against hers, a mere breath separating them.
— When this moment ends, I will lose this awareness too, won't I? — Avarka whispered.
The man didn't answer right away. His fingers traced slowly down Avarka's waist, as if trying to etch this moment into reality.
— Perhaps.
Avarka let out a soft laugh, but it trembled.
— Then, at least for these few minutes, I want to know the answer.
The man's green gaze seemed to pierce deeper into hers. The water, the closeness of their bodies, the blurred memories—all vibrated around them.
— In my past lives, have I committed many sins? — Avarka asked softly.
The man's fingers ran along her jawline, his lips barely brushing against hers, as if he didn't just want to whisper the words, but to breathe their meaning into her, whispering between gentle kisses:
— Your only sin has always been that you loved me.
And in that moment, Avarka knew that no matter what she decided, no matter where she drifted, this truth would never change.
The water rippled quietly around them as the man's fingers traced along Avarka's jawline. In that touch lay the memory of millennia, the weight of unspoken promises, and the sorrow of countless failed attempts. Avarka knew this moment could not last forever. Just as she knew that by the time dawn's light reached the sky, she would no longer remember what this touch, this closeness, this awareness truly meant.
The man gazed deep into her eyes, and it felt as if all the tremors of existence had condensed into this single moment. There were no longer any boundaries—no human, no angel, no past, no present. Only the ancient attraction that had always burned between them.
Avarka's lips barely touched his, yet it felt as if an entire world collapsed into that kiss. A pure, radiant force ignited between them—not just the meeting of bodies, but something far more. The language of the soul. The convergence of human and angelic existence. A lost melody, now rediscovered.
In their kiss lay all the severed pasts, all the unfulfilled promises. The man's hands pressed against Avarka's waist, and their bodies instinctively moved toward each other. His fingers wandered lower, drawing a quiet moan from her lips. The cool embrace of the water faded into the background, replaced by the burning heat of their skin against each other. Avarka felt she knew every movement of the man—this moment had always existed, and now they had simply found their way back to it.
As their bodies intertwined, new memories flared up in Avarka's mind. Fragments of past lives—names, faces, touches, tastes, and scents she had never experienced in this body, yet they were all hers. She felt the weight pressing down on her—the pain and beauty of endless cycles, of eternal return.
The man's whisper was barely more than a breath against her skin:
— So, have you reconnected?
Avarka didn't answer immediately. She just sat there, letting the emotions flow through her, then slowly raised her hand and placed it on the edge of the bathtub. Her fingers left damp traces on the cold porcelain. She looked out through the window at the skyscrapers, watching the flashing neon signs, the endless night that swallowed the city whole. Then finally, in a quiet yet sharply cutting voice, she spoke:
— Why now?
The man took a deep breath. The water rippled gently around them, as if time itself was breathing with them.
Avarka slowly turned toward him, and for the first time, truly looked into his eyes. His emerald-green gaze was like the sky before a storm, filled with suppressed promises.
— Because we need each other. We were both tense. I wanted to feel you again.
The words echoed in Avarka's mind, but it felt as though they weren't meant just for her, but for all those who had ever been within her, who had once been her.
In the lukewarm embrace of the water, in the closeness of the man's skin, in the touch of his hips, and in the reality of their bodies intertwining, Avarka's lips trembled.
— You know I would always stay by your side. Always. But…
The man smiled, but his smile was veiled, laced with a sorrowful understanding.
— But you always want to know more.
Avarka gave a small nod.
— I want to know what it's like to live overflowing with emotions. What it feels like when a decision rewrites destinies. I want to know what it's like when a person believes they are doing the right thing, yet they don't even understand what they have changed. I want to feel the weight of difficult choices, the pain, the joy. How could I ever be a celestial being if I have never lived through any of this? I can only truly help a human being if I have walked every path of life. Wealth, poverty, war… And I want to know— her voice faded, then strengthened again— …why I always feel drawn back to where I came from.
The man ran his fingers down her neck, his words barely more than a whisper:
— Sometimes, sweet ignorance is better.
The words hung between them, heavy and weightless at the same time. Avarka's heart pounded, and her body moved instinctively as she wrapped her leg around his hips. She felt their souls and bodies dancing together.
The man pressed his forehead against hers, and only a breath separated them.
— When this moment ends, I'll lose this awareness too, won't I? — Avarka whispered.
The man didn't answer right away. His fingers slowly traced down her waist, as if trying to etch this moment into reality.
— Perhaps.
Avarka let out a soft laugh, but her laughter trembled.
— Then, for these few minutes, I want to know the answer.
The man's green gaze seemed to pierce deeper into hers. The water, the closeness of their bodies, the blurred memories all vibrated around them.
— In my past lives, have I committed many sins? — Avarka asked softly.
The man's fingers ran along her jawline, his lips barely brushing hers, as if he wanted to whisper not just the words but their very meaning into her through gentle kisses, transferring them from one breath to another.
— Your only sin has always been that you loved me.
And in that moment, Avarka knew that no matter what she decided, no matter where she drifted, this truth would never change.
The water rippled quietly around them as the man's fingers traced the curve of Avarka's face. In that touch lay the memory of millennia, unspoken promises, and the pain of failed attempts, over and over again. Avarka knew this moment couldn't last forever. Just as she knew that by the time dawn's light reached the sky, she wouldn't remember what this touch, this closeness, this awareness truly meant.
The man looked deep into her eyes, and it felt as if the entire existence condensed into this single moment. There were no more boundaries—no human, no angel, no past, no present. Only the ancient attraction that had always burned between them.
Avarka's lips barely brushed against his, yet it felt as if an entire world collapsed into that kiss. A pure, radiant force flared between them—not just the union of bodies, but something more. The language of the soul. The meeting of human and celestial existence. A lost melody, now heard once more.
In their kiss lay all the severed pasts, all the promises that had never been fulfilled. The man's hands settled on Avarka's waist, and their bodies moved toward each other instinctively. His fingers traveled lower, drawing a soft moan from her lips. The cool embrace of the water faded into the background, replaced by the heat of their skin. Avarka felt she knew every movement of his—as if this moment had always existed, and now they had merely found their way back to it.
As their bodies intertwined, new memories ignited in Avarka's mind. Fragments of past lives, names and faces, touches, tastes, and scents she had never experienced in this body, yet they were all hers. She felt the weight more and more—the pain and beauty of endless cycles, of eternal return.
The man's whisper was no more than a breath against her skin:
— Now you remember, don't you?
Avarka's eyes closed, but a single tear still rolled down her cheek.
— Yes. But by morning, I will forget.
The man's lips brushed against her neck, and their movements hovered at the boundary of reality and dreams. Avarka clung to his hair, gathering all her strength to keep herself from dissolving too soon into the long-desired ecstasy. Her delicate fingers now gripped his muscles with a firm hold. She clutched his back as if she never wanted to be torn away from this connection.
The man was sensual, yet a relentless hunger burned within him, driving him deeper and deeper. With a single motion, he pulled her beneath him, and as their rhythm quickened, the water splashed against the floor like the echoes of a battle. There was no time, no space, only the union that was more than mere desire.
And when everything finally grew quiet, and Avarka's skin still burned from his touch, the man held her tightly as if he never wanted to let go, as if he wished to preserve what always slipped through their fingers.
The girl took a deep breath and turned her gaze toward the city lights. The neon signs flickered on the glass walls, advertisements pulsed on the sides of the towering buildings. Below, on the streets, people hurried about their lives, unaware of what was happening above them.
The steam had long since faded, the water lapped softly around them. Avarka's skin was hot, as if not just the bathwater, but something inside her was burning. The man's gaze was heavy, deep green—like a vortex one could fall into and be lost forever.
She no longer knew where she ended and where he began. Their bodies intertwined, every movement carrying unspoken longing. The man's hot breath trailed down her neck, his hand resting gently on her waist.
— The world is changing, Avarka — he whispered, his lips barely touching her skin. — People want more. They dig deeper, they seek more knowledge. They develop technologies once thought impossible. But there is one thing they will never change.
Avarka's breath quickened. His voice was deep, vibrating through her very bones.
— Full awareness — he continued, now at her ear. — No matter how much they try, no matter how much they search, no matter how much they want it… they can only reclaim it once they have left their bodies. They cannot disrupt their fate. They cannot rewrite what they have committed to. If they try, I will punish them before they can harm themselves.
His voice faded, and Avarka looked up at him. A strange, aching hope flared in her heart.
— Then… those as well… the ones in dark robes… — she whispered, barely audible.
The man's eyes darkened, and not a single word left his lips. The silence filled everything. The air grew heavy, as if time itself had frozen in one unchangeable moment.
Slowly, she turned, as if her very essence turned with her. And she softly spoke the name she should never have uttered.
But she looked into his eyes, and her lips involuntarily shaped the word:
— Uriel…
The man closed his eyes as if he could barely endure this moment. It felt good to him that she remembered him, but it troubled him that it wouldn't last long.
— This wasn't written in their fate — he finally said, his voice hoarse. — It was just me… making a reckless decision.
The words echoed sharply in Avarka's mind.
— It's not easy for me to handle this situation — Uriel continued, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were filled with pain. — The price of full knowledge is guilt. No matter how I decide, there is never a right choice. There will always be someone who gets hurt. There will always be someone who loses something. And I…
He fell silent. His next words seemed hard to form.
— And you… — he began again, but his voice trembled, just for a moment. — You… hurt me. It hurt when you spoke to me, when you questioned me. Your anger. Your anger burned me. I couldn't calm you. I couldn't kiss you. I couldn't tell you…
The words got stuck in his throat, and Uriel just closed his eyes as if trying to hold back the storm inside him. Then, with determination, he continued.
— I wanted to pull you to me. Into my arms. Into my bed. I would have covered you with kisses, silencing your questions, making you forget what you wanted to know…
Avarka's lips parted, her voice soft, almost pleading.
— Why?
Uriel took a deep breath.
— Because even in this fate, you are not meant for me.
Avarka's eyes filled with tears.
— But my soul… my soul is always yours. I always long to return to you.
The man's hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing her lips as if trying to carve the touch into his memory.
— In this fate, you are not written for me — he repeated softly.
The air vibrated between them. The words were heavy, as if sealing the invisible gate that stood between them.
— To experience lives, to understand destinies… you must also experience relationships — Uriel whispered. — And I… I would rather erase every man from your life.
Avarka trembled as she gripped his hand.
— But I am a being meant to protect and guide you, just as I guide every other learning soul. Not to change your fate. But the time will come when I can finally hold you in my arms forever.
Avarka embraced him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She didn't want to let go. She didn't want this moment to end. And the man pressed his burning lips to hers once more, a silent promise unspoken. Avarka's whole being tingled.
And then she understood.
She understood why humans sometimes feel an inexplicable longing, why they search for someone whose existence they don't even know. And if they don't find them, they create fleeting loves. They believe in the illusion, in the rose-colored mist, to fill the lingering void.
She understood that sometimes attraction is nothing more than a memory. A memory of someone left behind in another world. But because humans are social beings, we desperately yearn for someone, hoping deep inside that they are the missing piece.
She understood that those we seek are sometimes right beside us, yet we cannot reach them. We cannot see them with our physical eyes. Only when our soul is finally free.
Our fate is written in advance, and yet, we must choose in every moment. We choose love, but often, it is just a lesson, a beautiful experience, or a lifelong teaching. Our true other half waits elsewhere.
Avarka's breathing slowly calmed. She felt the sheets beneath her. She didn't know when she had ended up there. As if only the emotions had carried her, as if the world had slowly blurred around her.
Her fingers clutched the sheets, as if she never wanted to let go of this moment. As if she didn't want to let go of this awareness.
But she knew that her path was different.
In this world, two separate fates, two separate realities had collided. The path of an angel and a human.
A love that could never be fulfilled… until her soul was ready.
And yet, their souls would forever belong to one another.
Just before losing the consciousness she had long since abandoned, the girl took in the man's scent deep into her being.
Narcissus, vanilla, peppermint, and elderflower…