The light is blinding. It’s not warmth — it’s judgment.

You awaken on flawless marble ground, surrounded by towering gates, golden sky bridges, and a silence so perfect it hurts.

Heaven is beautiful… but cold.

Somewhere in the distance, angels watch you. Silent. Disapproving. Curious.

You are not from here. Not fully. Not yet.

(Type (My OC: ...) to step forward. The angels are watching. And they will judge.)