Auron

"Listen," they say, cowering in their dens, hunching next to each other, staring toward any sort of hole to the outside world, fearful for what is to come. "Do you hear it?"

"A song from the stars, a resounding note. Cover your ears, lest it grows too loud, lest it deafens you with its beauty."

"A supermassive black hole," they whimper, still fearfully watching, waiting. There is nothing else to do. Nothing they could dream of doing. "A halo, ringing around its head, the light is so bright it could blind you, it is so beautiful."

"Something not of this earth. Something Other, something with its throat yawing, ready to devour, ready to destroy. Not a harbinger of death, but what we were warned of."

"When dawn comes, we will be safe," mothers tell their hatchlings, even though their eyes tell of how they lie. "When the sun is back, it will be gone. We will be safe."

"An angel. A thing beyond our imagination, a thing terrifying and awful."

The haunting notes of it ring hollow like brass, so hauntingly eerie and so alluring. It's the last thing they hear. And, come morning, there is nothing left in the dens. Nothing left, except for drifting ashes.