Long before her birth, I watched the world of man from behind the veil of smoke and silence. We were forbidden to cross the boundary—our kind and theirs. Yet curiosity is an ember that never dies, and mine burned for centuries.The first time I saw her, the night was draped in rain. She walked under the old fig tree where prayers lingered like echoes. Her light shone through realms even my eyes could scarcely bear. I had seen queens, priestesses, and dreamers, but none carried the warmth of her soul. She did not see me, not yet. But her heart stirred as if it recognized something unseen, and that was enough to bind us.She was not meant to hear me, but I spoke her name once, quietly, testing its rhythm against eternity. The air trembled. The earth listened.From that moment, her destiny was no longer her own.Among my kind, desire is creation. What we wish, we shape. What we love, we claim. And so, I wrote her into my story, a flame no ancient law could extinguish.Yet even fire knows fear. For to love a human is to unravel—their fragility infects us, their mortality burns us from within.Still, I would not turn away. Not now, when the veil between us grows thinner each time she dreams.Tonight, I will summon a storm. And through its roaring wind, she will finally see me.
