The poisonous shade had seen a star fall from the heavens before.
In the chill of the night, as she traveled lone across the hard-packed winter earth, she had seen the
glory of the heavens as a doorway fell from the sky and was pulled down to the ground below. A angel, it's wings
lost, cursed as she, to lose it's place in the stars and plummet to the sinful world below. What anger, must the angel feel?
What envy for it's companions, what sure lust it must have for those who have not descended from their thrones.

And yet, though the shade had seen much during her lifetime, she has never seen a doorway from the heavens
streak through the sky as a firefly in the daytime, never has she seen something so glorious, so captivating. Never has she seen the celestial bodice
in the warmth of the sun, never has she seen a piece of the sky plummet so bright. Is the angel flaming, or is her mind playing tricks upon her? It does not glow,
it radiates. It radiates heat, warmth, it radiates a power unlike the normality of the cold objects that fall with bitter resentment and harsh words. It falls, though she is overcome with the sense that if this star wished to regain its wings, it would fly once more into the sky. It would surpass it's brethren, it was a king.
It falls towards the fields of heaven, and what a coincidence that is. A celestial creature, to be born in the midst of the kingdom on earth.

She is enraptured, enthralled, fascinated, she is a child who has found a new toy as she finds herself
brought across earth and wheat and patches of sweet wildflower until she finds him.
What is, he?
And though she is not the first to have come, she is far too caught upon this holy being, this otherworldly gift that she
sees before her gaze to surround her mind with them. Logical deduction is tossed aside in it's wake, the wings of hawks and the golden, metallic sheen that resembles
her breed. A beauty, a gem, a precious stone that gleams with radiance in the light of the sun.
The sun. It hits her then, the identity of this beast, the being that stands before her very visuals. He has had many names through the years, she recalls,
many names. And yet he stands here, before her, as much of a myth as the beating muscle inside her chest was.

A elegant bow is given unto the God of the Sun, and then her regal frame is once more lifted to stand among her kin. Though not in flesh, brothers,
sisters, regardless of the lack of her family. They are mortal, bound together as rope, and tied with the weakest of knots.
Her lyrics seep, golden, sweet liqueur from her maw as she observes him with keen violet pearls.
"We welcome your dawning, my Lord."

A wisp of a gentle song, floating as a leaf upon the wind. The barest of murmurs.
"I see a sun that never sets."