Jamie stood, dumbfounded. She turned back to him. My kindred and I are reckoned divine, but even we have our myths. It is told, on the rare occasions we meet, that every soul flame has a candle, and all those candles burn in a great cavern of night. She looked up at the stars.
Every soul has it's star, and every star it's soul.
She smiled briefly, before looking back again. Most of the candles are blue. Some are white. Few are black. No one tends the candles now, but long ago, there was one.