The morning sun slanted gently across the floor, soft and golden, lighting up the room in pieces.
Lyena sat on a cushion by the window, legs tucked beneath her, her fingers absently tracing the folds of the blanket in her lap.
The man she still didn't know by name stood across the room, speaking quietly with the winged stranger in white and gold.
Their voices were soft.
Almost too soft to hear.
The winged man - the Angel King - reached into his coat and pulled out something folded, worn around the edges.
A letter.
Its paper was thin.
Its corners curled from age and travel.
"This was found among her things," the Angel King said, handing it over.
"I thought you should have it."
The older man opened the paper, his eyes moving carefully across the first few lines.
He didn't react.
But the Angel King did.
He looked toward the girl at the window.
Then said aloud,
"She wrote about a child.
A girl named Lyena.
She said the girl sang to trees without knowing why.
That animals listened when she whispered.
That light moved toward her like it missed her."
He paused.
His voice gentled.
"She said the girl made her believe again."
Lyena's hands stopped moving.
She didn't look up.
But her shoulders lifted - just slightly - like her breath had paused.
The Angel King folded the letter carefully, slipping it back into his coat like something sacred.
"Whoever she was," he said, "she loved that girl more than her own life."
The door creaked.
Footsteps came down the hallway.
Then a voice:
"Elder Solarin!"
A young girl appeared in the doorway - dark curls bouncing, a small satchel over her shoulder.
She entered, saw the Angel King, saw the stranger by the window...
...and then she froze.
Without a word, she ran forward and hid behind the older man, gripping the edge of his robe like it was the only safe thing in the world.
He looked down at her with a quiet smile.
"You're back."
She nodded, barely.
Then he looked toward Lyena and said gently:
"She's called Isara. She just returned from a short trip."
"She's ten."
He didn't ask Lyena's age.
He didn't use her name.
He still didn't know it.
Isara peeked out from behind his robes, her eyes locking with Lyena's for the first time.
Neither spoke.
Neither smiled.
But something passed between them - shy, small, important.
Outside, the wind touched the branches lightly.
Inside, no one said more.
But something had changed.
Something had begun.
End of Chapter 15 - The Words Between Wings