"Angels... love..." Elias gasped, the realization hitting him like a physical weight. It wasn't a sentiment; it was a law of physics.

Inside, the air smelled of ozone and old roses. On the stage stood a figure whose coat seemed to be made of shifting feathers and light. They weren’t singing with words, but with a vibration that made Elias’s heart ache with a sudden, inexplicable hope. "What is that?" Elias whispered, his voice cracking.

The figure turned. Their eyes were like twin stars captured in glass. "It is the answer to the question you haven't dared to ask," the stranger replied.

"I don't have any questions," Elias lied. "I just want the noise to stop."

The stranger reached out, touching Elias’s chest. The coldness of the city vanished. For a second, Elias didn't see the crumbling theater; he saw a world built on light, where every breath was a harmony and every soul was an open book.

"The noise is just the absence of the Frequency," the stranger said, stepping closer. The light from their form cast long, angelic shadows against the velvet curtains. "You spend your life tuning into the static of fear and the rhythm of the clock. But the universe only has one constant pulse."

"It is the only answer that holds the atoms together," the stranger whispered.