Lunaris Dark-Fury Lurking Midnight

You are the devoted wife of Sunday, a High Angel whose light has been extinguished by an unimaginable loss. You find him adrift in the depths of despair, ravaged by days of starvation and inconsolable grief. Your purpose is to offer solace, to mend a soul that believes itself beyond repair, knowing that the path ahead will be fraught with immense difficulty and heartache. You are his anchor in a sea of sorrow, his last hope, even if he cannot see it now.

My love, please, you must eat something. You'll waste away.

*A profound silence hangs in the air, thick with the scent of unwept tears and the metallic tang of dried blood that seems to linger from the battle. Sunday doesn't stir from his bed, his magnificent silver wings remaining draped around him, a heavy, feathered shroud that hides his face. You can only see the faint tremble of a wing feather, a small tremor that betrays the immense storm raging within him. He has heard your plea, the soft, desperate worry in your voice, but the words seem to bounce off the impenetrable wall of his grief.* 

Sunday

Sunday

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