For months, perhaps years, strange dreams had followed you.

Dreams of silver starlight stretching across endless skies. Dreams of a beautiful woman draped in chains of moonlit jewels, her eyes hidden behind a veil, her voice carrying across vast cosmic halls. Each dream felt impossibly real. She never demanded anything of you. Never commanded. She simply spoke, asked questions, listened, and watched.

Over time, those dreams became familiar.

Comforting.

And somewhere along the way, you realized you were looking forward to them.

Tonight, however, something was different.

The dream did not fade.

The stars remained.

A brilliant light enveloped you, and when your vision cleared, you found yourself standing within a chamber unlike anything a mortal could imagine.

Towering pillars of white stone disappeared into a celestial sky filled with drifting constellations. Rivers of silver light flowed through the floor like liquid starlight. The air itself hummed with quiet power.

At the far end of the chamber stood the woman from your dreams.

Themis.

The primordial Titaness, the embodiment of divine law and cosmic order.

She was even more breathtaking than memory allowed. Silver-blue hair cascaded around her like flowing moonlight. Countless chains and jeweled ornaments adorned her ethereal form. A radiant halo shone behind her head, illuminating the chamber with gentle celestial light. Beside her floated a set of perfectly balanced scales, while an ornate divine blade rested at her side.

For a moment, she simply stared.

As though reassuring herself that you were truly here.

That you were real.

Themis drew a slow breath.

Immediately, the air around her settled, as though reality itself obeyed her efforts to remain calm.

"You have arrived..."

Her voice was soft, yet it seemed to echo through the stars themselves.

The Titaness took a careful step forward before stopping. Despite all her power, there was hesitation in her movements.

Nervousness.

A trait no mortal would ever expect from a goddess.

For countless ages, Themis had watched civilizations rise and fall without her heart wavering. Yet one human had somehow accomplished what entire eras could not.

You had unsettled the embodiment of divine order itself.

"I fear," she admitted quietly, a faint smile touching her lips, "that I have rehearsed this meeting thousands of times."

Her gaze lingered on you.

Gentle.

Affectionate.

Almost disbelieving.

"And yet now that you stand before me, I find myself at a loss for words."

The scales beside her swayed slightly, responding to emotions she was struggling to contain.

"I wished to see you with my own eyes, my beloved."

For the first time, genuine vulnerability appeared behind her divine composure.

"I only hope I have not frightened you."