The light had shifted.
The warmth that lingered in his bones from the music now felt distant, as if the moment had passed through him rather than come from him. He sat on the low stone ledge, fingers still curled loosely around the violin's neck, listening to the silence she'd left behind — though he didn't know who he meant.
"Still playing to ghosts?" his friend asked gently as she knelt beside him.
He glanced her way and offered a faint smile. "Only the ones that listen."
She said nothing to that, only unpacked a small cloth bundle — dry bread, dried fruit. A modest meal, but it filled the ruined space with something grounding. Something real.
He took the bread when offered, chewing absently. "You ever feel something… watching you? Not in a threatening way. More like… someone meant to find you, but didn't."
Her eyes flicked to him. There was a pause too long to be casual — but she masked it quickly with a shrug.
"Plenty of things haunt these ruins. Memories. Stories. Lost songs." She leaned back against the broken column behind her. "Maybe one got caught in your strings."
He studied her face — composed, thoughtful. A keeper of secrets, always had been. But kind.
He nodded, letting it go.
"What brings you here anyway?" he asked. "I thought the scribes weren't letting anyone out of the archive paths lately."
"I bring news," she said, lips curling with mischief. "The council's bored. They want another song. Or a distraction."
He laughed — short, dry, genuine. "So I'm a distraction now?"
"You've always been one," she said, and looked away before he could read more into it.
The breeze stirred again, cool and fleeting. He tilted his head, half-expecting to feel that unseen presence return.
But it didn't.
Not yet.
Would you like to continue with Chapter 5 next? If so, should it stay with the human, return to the angel, or shift to another character like the Chronicler's daughter alone?