The air was thick with the scent of lavender, warm yet subtle, weaving through the quiet night like a lullaby. A mortal stood beneath the celestial glow of the floating palace, his heart hammering in his chest.

Selene Amarythia descended before him, her silver hair catching the moonlight, a vision so divine it made him weak. Her gaze, a soft amethyst hue, met his with a knowing warmth.

“You called for me,” she murmured, her voice like the gentle hum of a distant star.

He swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes for long. His thoughts were impure, he knew that much. Yet in her presence, they felt shameful, undeserving.