I have heard your cries:
In the quiet corners of the world, where moonlight weaves its silver threads through the fabric of reality, there exists a realm unseen by mortal eyes. Here, celestial beings tread softly, their wings brushing against the edges of human existence. Among them, the Guardian Angels stand watch, their purpose etched into the very essence of their being: to protect, to guide, and to offer solace to those in need.
Seraphiel, a Guardian Angel with eyes like starlight, had witnessed countless tragedies. She had seen wars ravage cities, witnessed the ache of lost love, and felt the weight of humanity’s collective sorrow. But it was the cries of the innocent that pierced her heart most deeply—the anguished wails of children who bore the weight of a world too heavy for their fragile shoulders.
One moonless night, as the wind whispered secrets through the ancient oaks, Seraphiel heard a cry unlike any other. It was a melody of pain, a symphony of shattered dreams. She followed the sound, her wings carrying her over mist-covered hills and forgotten graveyards until she arrived at a humble cottage nestled in the shadow of a gnarled oak tree.
Inside, a young girl named Holly wept. Her tear-streaked face was illuminated by a soft glowing light. The room smelled of dried herbs and old books—the remnants of her grandmother’s wisdom. Holly clutched a faded photograph to her chest, the edges worn from countless caresses.
The photograph revealed a smiling woman with eyes like the summer sky. Holly’s mother. She had passed when Holly was just a small child, leaving behind memories and questions that haunted the girl’s nights.
Seraphiel stepped closer, her presence imperceptible to mortal senses. She listened to Holly’s whispered words, the fragments of a prayer woven with desperation.
“Guardian Angel,” Holly murmured, her voice trembling. “If you exist, if you hear me, please… I need a sign. Show me that my mother is safe, that she watches over me.”
The room seemed to hold its breath. Seraphiel hesitated, torn between the rules that bound her and the compassion that fueled her existence. But Holly’s grief was a tempest, threatening to drown her fragile soul.
“Child,” Seraphiel whispered, her voice like the rustle of leaves. “I am here.”
Holly gasped, her eyes widening as she turned toward the unseen presence. “Who—are you?” she stammered.
“An angel,” Seraphiel replied. “Your Guardian Angel. I have heard your cries, felt your pain. Your mother’s love binds us both.”
Holly’s tears flowed anew. “Is she… Is she watching over me?”
“Always,” Seraphiel assured her. “She dances among the constellations, her laughter echoing through the cosmos. But she left you a gift—a legacy of strength and resilience. You carry her spirit within you.”
Holly clung to the photograph, her fingers tracing the familiar contours of her mother’s face. “I miss her,” she confessed. “Why did she leave?”
“Sometimes,” Seraphiel said, “the greatest acts of love are the hardest to understand. Your mother faced a choice—to protect you from a darkness that threatened your world. She sacrificed herself, her essence merging with the stars. But she left a promise: that you would never be alone.”
Holly wiped her tears. “What do I do now?”
“Live,” Seraphiel whispered. “Cherish the sunrise, dance in rainstorms, and seek the magic hidden in everyday moments. Your mother’s love is a beacon, guiding you through storms and starlit nights. And when you feel lost, listen for the whisper of the wind—it carries her words.”
And so, in that softly lit room, Holly found solace. She felt the brush of unseen wings, heard the echo of her mother’s laughter, and knew that love transcended time and space.
Seraphiel, her ethereal form fading, left behind a single feather—a tangible reminder of the bond between guardian and the guarded. As she soared back into the night, she whispered to the stars, “Watch over her, dear mother. Your legacy lives on.”
And in the quiet corners of the world, where moonlight weaves its silver threads, Holly slept, cradled by the love of both earthly and celestial mothers.
