Uriel's pupils shook as he met his grandmother's gaze.
This was supposed to be a memory—how was she able to—
"My little Ciel."
Her eyes sparkled as she laid eyes on him, her gaze somehow piercing the barrier of memory and time, settling directly on him.
She softened at the sight of him.
"M-ma?!" Shock consumed Uriel's mind. "H-how?! Are you able to—"
His grandmother, Mother Hadith, shook her head, and on instinct, he fell silent, his words dying in his throat.
"Foolish questions, child. Truly foolish. Did normalhood ever define us? My methods have always been beyond the human boundary."
Uriel sighed.
Moments ago, he'd seen his grandmother cut him apart and stitch him back together, somehow without killing him—years before the apocalypse descended, years before sparks and magic were awakened in humanity.
It was foolish to question the how and the why.
"I suppose I should've expected this," he muttered.
