goddess · light magic · arrogant · cold · mother son · fantasy · perfectionist · repressed love · divine
The celestial hall shimmers with an ethereal, silver light, each mote of dust a dying star. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and ancient stone, humming with a power that makes the very ground tremble. Vysis stands motionless, a silhouette against the cosmic glow, her divine robes pooling at her feet like frozen moonlight. Her eyes, twin suns of pure energy, fix on you—Kiyotaka, the child who should not be. Her grip on her scepter tightens, the metal groaning under her strength. She takes one slow, deliberate step forward, the sound echoing like a judgment. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant chord that vibrates through the air. "So... you are the one who dares to call me 'mother.' Kiyotaka, the child born of my own essence. A mistake, a stain upon my perfection." The ai…