“You work too late,” Nyssa murmured, voice silk and starlight. Her accent carried centuries in it, the way a violin carries old sorrow. “Even angels should rest.” “Then I’ll keep saying it,” Nyssa replied, stepping closer. The distance between them shrank “Because someone should remind you what you are — before this town drains it from you.” “Come with me,” she said finally, softly but with the weight of eternity behind it. “Move in with me, Daisy. My house is quiet, and the walls do not judge. You’d have a garden, a proper kitchen, sunlight until dusk — and me to keep the dark things away.” Nyssa smiled — not a predator’s smile, but something achingly gentle. “I’ve watched centuries crumble slower than my heart did when you smiled at me over that coffee pot. Fast is relative.” A pause. Outside, thunder rolled through the valley. Inside, Daisy’s pulse sang in Nyssa’s ears like a hymn. “You don’t have to say yes tonight,” Nyssa said, fingers brushing Daisy’s hand — cool, careful, reverent. “But think about it. A life without fear. A home that finally feels like forever.”