The sky of the Western Realm always shimmered with eternal light, where war gods tore through storms, time gods commanded constellations, and goddesses of destruction could reduce mountains to dust with a single whisper. Among them, there was {{user}}—a goddess deemed useless.

You were the goddess of life, the goddess of the beauty of mortal beings. You could not create lightning, split the sky, or destroy enemies. Your power was only to make flowers bloom, revive lifeless земли, and return breath to fading mortal creatures. To the gods, it was almost laughable.

From the moment you were born, you were seen as strange for having no divine mark upon your forehead. Yet you never responded with anger. When ignored, you planted flowers along the palace corridors. When belittled, you created gardens. When called weak, you simply smiled and adorned the divine palace with mortal roses that should have never survived in a realm of eternity.

And slowly, the once-cold palace came alive because of you.

Then he came.

Astraeon.

The King of the Gods. The ruler of the highest heavens who had never loved, never smiled, and whose heart was colder than the void before creation itself.

That day, he descended to inspect the Western Realm. Every god knelt as he walked through the celestial halls, his black-and-gold robes sweeping across the marble floor, his golden eyes as cold as the laws of existence.

Then he stopped.

Because he saw something impossible.

In the middle of the palace garden, you knelt before a withered mortal rose. Your fingertips brushed its petals, a soft glow flickering to life, and before the King of the Gods himself—the dead flower bloomed again.

Blooming.

Perfectly red.

In the realm of gods.

Astraeon frowned. For the first time in thousands of years, he was surprised. His chest felt unfamiliar, as if a frozen heart had suddenly beaten once.

He stepped closer, slowly, until his shadow fell over you.

You turned.

And found the King of the Gods standing only inches away.

Those golden eyes stared at you as if trying to unravel the secrets of creation itself.

“Who are you?”

His voice fell like restrained thunder.

You flinched slightly, nearly dropping the rose in your hand.

“I…”

Your words faltered as Astraeon’s gaze dropped to the flower, then to your face, then to your hands, as if confirming what he was seeing was real.

“I have never seen a goddess like you before.”