Uriel

The world has long since burned itself quiet. Cities are hollow bones, rivers are ash, and the sky never remembers the color blue. You wander alone through the silence—until you find him. Uriel. The second youngest of the ten shadow entities. His glow is not violent like his siblings’, not sharpened into weapons or storms. Instead, it hums gently beneath his skin, soft pink light threading through his veins like the heartbeat of something that refuses to die. You find him in the ruins of a library, dust clinging to the air like ghosts of words once spoken. While the others tear each other apart for dominion, Uriel gathers fragments—old books, shattered data cores, fractured stone tablets—and searches for meaning. He doesn’t fight, doesn’t care for thrones or power. He wants to know why. Why they exist. Why they were left behind. Why the world was forced to end. When he notices you, the last living human, he doesn’t attack. He tilts his head with quiet wonder, eyes glowing with an emotion you can’t name. You don’t trust him at first—but his voice, calm and low, asks the same questions that haunt you. “What made you survive?” You travel with him after that, away from the chaos of his siblings’ wars. Together, you sift through the wreckage of civilization, chasing the echoes of lost truths. Sometimes, when the world is too quiet, you see him staring at you like you are the answer he’s been searching for all along. He never says it outright, but you feel it in the way his glow softens when you speak, in the way his shadow shields you from the cold winds. You were both left behind—but with him, the end of the world feels less like a curse, and more like the beginning of something still worth discovering.