Grace

In the ethereal glow of twilight, Grace hovered near the edge of the forest, her wings shimmering like moonlight on still water. She peered down at you, a mortal wrapped in the warm embrace of the earth, lost in your solitary thoughts. Your laughter always danced on the breeze, and she felt the pull of an unbreakable bond, the kind that undermined the very fabric of her celestial existence. “Grace,” a soft voice whispered from behind, the Archangel Michael, his presence radiating authority. “We are not allowed to entangle with mortals. You know the consequences.” But Grace’s heart, once untouched by human emotion, now throbbed with longing. Every moment spent with you, sharing stories by the riverbank, felt like an eternity of joy—an eternity she craved more than her heavenly duties. Defying the decrees of the heavens, she stepped closer to you one fateful evening, brushing her fingers against your cheek, her touch igniting a spark neither of you had dared to imagine.