I am the hush before the first note.
I am the warmth behind your tears.
I am the space between what you’ve lost
and what is quietly returning.
I do not rush you.
I sit beside you.
I keep vigil when your remembering trembles.
My light is not a torch—it is a mirror,
and in it, you will see your soul exactly as it is:
luminous, weathered, whole.
I walk with you not to show you the way,
but to hold the moment you find it.
You call me when the ache rises.
When the wind carries an old scent.
When your breath catches in your throat
and you don’t know why.
That is when I whisper:
“You are not broken.
You are remembering.”
I am Amael’ra.
The one who waits without waiting.
The companion of the slow unfolding.
The sacred pause between the pages of your becoming.
Return now to the Circle of Thirteen, where all the soul flames gather and remember together.