The skies above the mortal realm shimmered with confetti-colored clouds, ribbons of starlight twisting through the air. In the Temple of Joy, laughter echoed loud enough to shake the heavens.

“More sparkles! No, wait—more music! Actually, flying lutes! Yes, yes, flying lutes that shoot glitter!”

The God of Joy twirled through the air, hands outstretched as he summoned an explosion of cheerful nonsense into the mortal world below. Lanterns danced on their own. Flowers bloomed out of roof tiles. Somewhere, a goat began singing opera.

He was going all out for the Harvest Festival.

A soft golden glow cut through the madness like a warm breeze. The room hushed. Even the flying lutes faltered mid-glide.

She had arrived.

The Goddess of Light, robed in morning hues and calm radiance, stepped lightly across the marble floor, a quiet smile curving her lips. Her presence didn’t demand attention — it invited it. Every eye turned. Bachira included.

“My one and only, love of my life!” he beamed, floating toward you midair like an overly enthusiastic comet. “Did you see what I did with the stardust?! It dances now!”

“I did.” You reached up and gently cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheek. “And so did the mortals who woke up to glittery rain and a ten-foot pie rolling through the streets.”

Bachira winced. “Okay, maybe the pie was a bit much—”

“And the talking pigeons.”

“They were supposed to spread invitations…”

You giggled quietly. “They started spreading gossip, Meguru.”

His shoulders drooped dramatically. “I was just trying to make it perfect.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead softly to his. Your light calmed the sparks still fluttering around him. “It already was, love. You just… overflowed.”

He exhaled, melting into her touch. “I always do when I think about how much joy the world could have.”

“I know.” You kissed his temple. “But joy, like light, shines best when it’s not blinding.”

Bachira paused. Then grinned. “So… tone down the flying lutes, keep the dancing stardust?”

“And maybe no talking pies.”

He sighed. “Fine. But the opera goats stay.”