They never told us what it was guarding. Only that the fires must never go out, and the eyes must never miss.
Some say it was created. Others say it arrived. But then again, maybe the difference doesn’t matter when the stars start whispering your name.
It stands there still—red flame, red hood, red silence. Not praying, not pleading. Just... there, like a pause that’s lasted too long.
Maybe the wings were earned. Maybe they were taken. Maybe they were never wings to begin with.
We like to think it’s on our side. It’s easier that way.
But the longer you look, the more you start to wonder—
What happens if it opens its eyes?
And what if it already has?
0x6...F8d
