It was only at that moment that Uriel realised he'd completely forgotten about the strange events of his advent, and how he'd survived it.
No, it was more than simply forgetting. It was as if the matter had been sealed away, his mind forced not to think too deeply about it.
Until now.
The Lady of Fire, the supposed Supreme Spirit, looked the same as she had during his advent: a petite frame of white flames, long flaming purple hair, and deep azure pupils.
This time, however, white robes draped over her body, seemingly unaffected by her heat.
Slowly, with measured steps, she made her way toward him. Then, she sat down beside him.
Silence stretched. For long minutes, Uriel stared up at her, still lying down in disbelief. More than once, he asked himself whether he was dreaming, or if he had already gone mad.
Maybe he had already been in the white hell for millions of years, and his mind was finally starting to collapse. Though he felt like he had just arrived, it was possible.
