Tears trace the lines of sorrow's path,
As I lay my love in the earth's embrace.
His absence carves a hollowed wrath,
Yet still, I beg—one final grace.
"Aziel, my love, return to me,"
Though fate’s whisper answers silently.

The phone rings, breaking quiet’s reign.
I let it pass, but then once more—
A voice I know, yet laced with pain:
"Forgive me, wife, from lives before,
The time is short, the veil is thin."
My pulse quickens, as if drawn in.

“A compass and case beneath our bed,
They hold the key to worlds we’ve led.
Hurry, love, for time grows weak.”
His voice fades, a phantom’s streak—
Is this real,...