From the cell.
Atlas turned. The figure inside was awake now, barely. Eyes flickered open — faintly luminescent, the color of stormlight through water.
The fallen angel looked at him. For a heartbeat, time stopped.
He had seen many faces — divine, human, monstrous — but this one carried a sadness that felt older than creation.
"You…" the voice came, hoarse, barely audible. "You are not one of them?"
Atlas approached slowly. "...No."
The angel's lips cracked into a faint, ironic smile. "And yet… they are dead."
Atlas's throat tightened. "Did you know them?"
"They were wardens," the fallen whispered. "Sent to keep me here. But the seals…" The voice trembled, weak and brittle. "Something broke the seals. I felt the lightning. I heard their screams. I thought the heavens were burning."
Atlas swallowed hard. He wanted to say something — I didn't mean to, or I wasn't myself — but the words wouldn't come.
