Chiyo sat on the very edge of the ruined building, her legs dangling freely over the abyss of ocean below. Wind brushed past her long hair, but she did not move to adjust it. Her eyes were fixed on the ocean biome beneath her.
Far below, Meiling was struggling.
She was dragging a man out of the endless water, her breaths uneven, her body shaking with exhaustion. Each step toward the shore looked like it took everything she had.
Chiyo narrowed her eyes.
"That face…" she whispered softly. "How nostalgic."
Her fingers tightened against the concrete edge.
"It is happening again," she murmured. "Same way. Again and again."
Standing beside her was an angel.
Tall, pale, and silent.
White wings rested neatly behind her back, not a single feather disturbed by the wind. Her face was beautiful, but empty. Her eyes held no curiosity, no judgment, no emotion at all.
She looked like a statue given breath.
Chiyo turned her head slightly toward her.
