"Are you okay?"
Aelior froze.
The voice cut through the chaos like a thread of warmth, pulling him back from the edge of panic.
He blinked, his vision trembling between light and blur, and slowly lifted his gaze toward the stranger.
She looked ordinary—at least, that's what he thought at first.
But the longer he looked, the less ordinary she became.
The city bent around her as though she carried her own quiet gravity. Her hair flowed in dark waves that shimmered where the sunlight brushed it, framing a face too alive to belong to a dream. Her eyes—amber-gray, steady, unafraid—met his with startling clarity.
There was something ancient in her gentleness, something that made even the noise of the world pause for her. A stray breeze caught her hair, scattering it like embers in the light. A small scar curved beneath her lip—barely visible, yet somehow grounding her beauty in reality. Mortal. Flawed. Beautiful.
When she knelt beside him, her shadow fell across his trembling hands—warm, soft, and steady.
In that fragile moment, Aelior realized that even in all the heavens he had known, nothing had ever looked so human… or so divine.
"You okay there?" she asked again, this time with a teasing lilt, like she was trying to pull him back from wherever his mind had gone.
He blinked, still lost between awe and confusion.
Then she chuckled—a low, melodic sound that rippled through him like a forgotten melody.
"Hey," she said, eyes glinting. "Back to Earth."
The words jolted him. His senses rushed back—the roar of engines, the chatter of strangers, the smell of smoke and bread. The pavement was hot beneath his palms.
"I… I think so," he murmured, voice hoarse.
She smiled faintly. "Good. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
Aelior almost laughed—but the sound never came.
If only she knew.
Her gaze trailed downward, noticing his silence and the strange coat clinging to him—torn leather, stitched with old blood. "Is that… blood on your coat?"
Aelior's heart stumbled. He looked down—and froze.
The coat.
He recognized it. The same one Kaelen had worn before vanishing. His breath caught. Wait… when did I put this on? He spun through fragments of memory—nothing. No movement, no dressing, no transition. Just darkness, and then this.
What's happening to me?
He stood there, lost in spiraling thoughts, until her voice cut through again. "You look so spaced out. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I…" He stopped. "I'm fine."
She tilted her head. "What's your name? You don't look like you're from this city. Are you lost?"
He hesitated. "Name's Aelior."
Then, nervously, "What do you mean by 'I don't look like I'm from this city'? Don't I look… human?"
Her laughter broke through the air like sunlight through clouds. "Of course you do, dumbhead! It's just—" she gestured at him, "—you look so lost. Like you've never been here before."
"Ah." He forced a small smile. "I'm from…" His eyes darted around. A flag fluttered nearby. "Virginia."
"Virginia?" She eyed him, squinting suspiciously. "Really?"
Aelior swallowed. I think I'm screwed.
She leaned closer, arms folded, face inches from his. "You sure about that?"
Her gaze locked on his, amber-gray burning into blue. Aelior's breath hitched. He leaned back slowly, pulse stuttering. The warmth of her, the closeness—it was overwhelming. He could hear his own heartbeat, feel his throat tighten. When he finally dared to glance back, she was even closer.
Their eyes met. The city's noise dimmed to a hum.
And then, helplessly, his gaze drifted to her lips—soft, faintly curved, glinting with the color of dawn.
He swallowed hard. What is this feeling…?
Before he could make sense of it, she broke the tension, eyes lighting up.
"Oh! " she exclaimed, pointing past him. "Look!"
A vendor was calling out over the city noise, waving paper cups.
"Fresh mango ice cream! Cold and sweet, just two dollars!"
She grinned. "God, I haven't had one in forever." She turned back to him, her smile bright. "You like ice cream?"
Aelior blinked. "Ice… cream?"
Her laughter danced again. "You really don't get out much, huh?"
"I… haven't seen one before," he admitted softly.
"Well," she said, grabbing his wrist with gentle warmth, "you're about to."
Before he could protest, she pulled him through the crowd toward the stall. She handed a few coins to the vendor and passed him a cup.
Aelior stared at it—a swirl of gold and white, soft and glistening, melting slightly under the sun. He lifted it carefully, almost reverently. When he tasted it, sweetness burst across his tongue—cold, rich, alive. His eyes widened in surprise.
The girl giggled at his expression. "You like it? Caramel Swirl. My favorite."
Aelior nodded, still stunned. "It's… delicious."
They walked side by side through the crowd. For a moment, he let himself forget the silence, the gods, the blood. He simply watched her—how her smile lifted when the wind caught her hair, how the sunlight touched her face like the world itself adored her.
He thought, Even simple creatures can be so beautiful.
She turned to cross the street. "Come on," she said brightly, "let's go."
Aelior followed, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips—until the world shifted again.
A truck's horn blared.
Aelior's eyes shot wide. The massive vehicle hurtled toward them, metal screaming, tires shrieking. The girl froze. She gasped, clutching Aelior's coat, closing her eyes.
Without thinking, Aelior raised his palm.
For a heartbeat, time shattered.
Silence.
Light fractured.
And then — nothing.
When he opened his eyes, the street was empty.
No truck. No sound.
Just him, holding her close. Her fingers gripped his chest. Her breath trembled. She opened her eyes, confusion dawning in them.
They were both alive.
She blushed, realizing the closeness, and pushed him away, face flushed. "What the hell just happened!?"
Aelior's gaze drifted past her—to the empty road where the truck had been.
He whispered, trembling, "Where… did the truck go?"
The girl blinked, startled. "What truck?"
The world tilted.
Aelior froze, the blood draining from his face.
The silence pressed in around him again, heavy and absolute.
And deep beneath that silence — something stirred.