The skies above Heaven were endless—painted in hues of gold and silver, where no wind stirred, and no shadow dared to fall.
Angels glided between floating halls of crystal, their wings shimmering like dawn.
Among them was one whose heart beat differently.
Seraphiel, the youngest guardian of the Gate of Dawn, often stood alone upon the edge of the clouds, staring toward the world below.
"Why do you watch the mortal realm, Seraphiel?" an elder angel once asked.
He had smiled gently then.
"Because their hearts beat with something I do not understand."
That night, while the stars sang their hymns, a voice reached him—soft, trembling, and pure.
A mortal's prayer.
"Dear Heaven… I'm not asking for miracles.
I just want to know I'm not alone."
The words touched something deep inside him.
Seraphiel closed his eyes. He could feel the pain in that voice, the warmth, the longing.
He tried to ignore it, as heaven's law forbade listening to mortal cries for too long. But the prayer returned the next night—and the next.
He began to wait for it.
And then, on the seventh night, when her tears reached the clouds, he whispered for the first time in his eternal life:
"You are not alone."
The stars flickered.
Heaven trembled.
For the first time in countless ages, a divine being had answered a mortal heart.