Seori
Of wings and flame
There was no pain here.
No weight of a body torn open. No sting of betrayal. No fire licking at the edges of memory. Only warmth.
Soft. Endless. Light so pure it didn’t blind, it embraced.
I floated… or maybe I was drifting through something older than time, older than names. The stars whispered like lullabies, and the wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms and incense and something like home.
And then I saw him.
He stood beneath a sky made of gold-threaded clouds, his white robes flowing like starlight. Wings—so bright they shimmered in hues I had no words for—arched behind him in silent command. His hair was pale as morning, his face carved with the kind of sorrow only eternity knows.
I knew him instantly.
“Father…” My voice broke. I didn’t even know I could cry here. But I did.
The archangel turned slowly, and when our eyes met, I saw myself in him. Not just the celestial part. But the part that still ached to belong. To be loved without question.
“My starlight,” he said, voice soft, ancient. “You weren’t supposed to come here like this.”
I stumbled into his arms.
“I didn’t even get to know you,” I choked. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
His embrace was warm. Real. He smelled of old parchment, wind, and the comfort of something pure.
“You don’t need to say goodbye, Seori. Because I was never far. I watched every step. Every fall. Every time you doubted your worth… and kept walking.”
“But I didn’t get to live,” I whispered.
He cupped my face, brushing away a tear.
“You did. You loved. Fiercely. You forgave, even when it broke you. You made your own path — even when fate tried to chain you.”
He paused, eyes shining.
“And he loves you. The prince of shadows. He loves you enough to unravel the world.”
The air began to tremble around us — a chant rising like a wind from beyond.
Voices. Familiar. One like moonlight. The other… fire.
Mother. And Rheon.
“Seori,” my father said, his voice growing distant as the light flared behind him. “They’re calling you back. The bond is strong… but it’s your choice.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” I whispered. My hands clung to his robes. “Not yet.”
He kissed my forehead.
“You were born for both sky and flame,” he said. “But it is in life that you are strongest. It’s not goodbye, my starlight. It’s soon.”
I wanted to ask more. Tell him more.
But the light pulled me. His form blurred, fading like the last warmth of a dream. And the last thing I heard him whisper, just before everything dissolved into flame and heartbeat and pain was—
“I’m proud of you. Always.”
And then I fell—
Back into myself.
Back to him.
Back to Rheon.