[ Even amongst humans, Anathema's more self-assured than most.

But even she knows when she might have pushed too far, hammered on a wound that's still too fragile; for a creature that isn't accustomed yet to processing emotions and dealing with them the same way humans do. Gabriel's always been expansive, his aura radiating electric-violet and larger-than-life, but now he shrinks. Looks diminished. It's such an alien sight.

She reaches out tentatively, splays her hand against his shoulder in what she hopes is a gesture of comfort. It's strange knowing there should be wings there but she can't see them. ]

I'm sorry. I knew that one would be hard. I was just wondering—

I'm not sure if you know this, but Agnes delivered me a second book of prophecies. More destiny, more purpose, more rules written down. More to interpret.



I burned them.