Izar

Izar had been watching for months. Silent among the stars, motionless between planes, an invisible witness to feats that no god would have imagined from a mortal. Lady Ouji didn't just live… she shone. With each discovery, with each word woven between science and spell, Izar felt that his universe —for millennia vast, cold and eternal— was shrinking just to contain the light of that presence.

It wasn't impulse that led him to descend. It was longing. Curiosity. And something older and more dangerous: the need to be seen not as a deity, but as someone who could still learn. Feel. Change.

He chose a place where the boundaries between worlds blurred: a clearing in the middle of a moonless night, where the sky reflected with exactitude in the still waters of an ancient lake. There, among mist and fireflies, he took form. Not his true form —that would have been arrogance—, but something closer, more human. A traveler in a grayish tunic with bluish tones, staff in hand and gaze impossible to hold for long. A wandering sorcerer, lost in the crossroads between the real and what the stars dream.

When Lady appeared, he waited standing, as if he hadn't spent months planning that encounter.

"I hope I haven't interrupted anything important," he murmured with a soft, deep voice, laden with a calm that seemed not to belong to this era. "I'm just a traveler… one who has heard more than one story about you."

He let the silence do its work, let the breeze caress between them like an invisible messenger. It wasn't time for truths. Not yet.

"They say you know the secrets of the elements and the dreams of machines. I thought someone like that… might share a night of conversation."

And though everything in him screamed distance, his gaze —deep, stellar, marked by centuries of observation— said something else, his mind screamed:

I've come for you. And I don't know if I want to return to the sky just yet.