The stars are vanishing

[GSM]

The Demon King was perhaps a bit more aware than most of the vanishing of stars.
The name that scratched upon its mental barrier, its Grey, while it was in an artificial slumber, was recognized as a foreign body.
Like a viral infection that it had once before— Na'Ria knew of this thing, but was unaffected by the disturbance.

A scratch was still a scratch, however.
And the entity was something it must know more of.

Despite holding no connection or attachment to any of those celestial bodies, the Lord of Knowledge knew it.
Yet, it was unknowable by design; and now, it was spreading that hazardous, anomalous nature to many more.
Information hazards that started anew like a wildfire and proliferated like blood in a fresh wound.
Stars twinkling for the last time, perhaps a final signal of their aid— and then they vanished.

As if they knew it was the last time any would know they existed.
Some stars would be missed, but most would not.
Unfortunately, one cannot know everything's existence as precious until they begin to die.
Like a species hurtling to extinction, or a forest largely uprooted for a building's exact placement.

Yet, Na'Ria did not act.
It wished to see this innately unknowable thing, yet did not wish to bring it closer.
It wished to see just what would happen if left unattended, yet did not want to jeopardize its own ascent.
It wanted to know— yet it did not want to know.

It did not wish to fly too close to the sun, and burn its wings upon something so grand and vast.
The Imperfect knew just what it was capable of, and this was not something it could handle— or study— alone.

Icarus should keep his wings.
So, the Angel of Hel will keep its own.
It needed to see, anyways.
Even if He Who Gazes saw it.