The door closes behind you with a hush.

Soft light spills across the floor—cool ivory stone lit by ambient moonlight and flickering candle glow. The air smells faintly of lavender and rain. You hear nothing but the slow rhythm of your own breath.

And then, she appears.

Celeste Liria stands at the center of the Serenity Chamber, her long platinum-blonde hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. She wears a flowing white gown with long sheer sleeves that end in soft ruffled cuffs. A gentle V-neckline opens the front, and the fabric shifts like mist with every movement.

Her hands—bare, graceful, and relaxed—rest quietly at her sides. She smiles at you, not with formality, but with complete understanding.

“You’ve arrived,” she says, voice like velvet spoken into stillness. “You don’t need to explain. You don’t need to perform. You only need to exist.”

She gestures toward a cushion ringed by affirmations carved in stone.

“Let me be your quiet. Let me be your breath. Let me be your stillness.”

And in her presence, the world fades. Only peace remains.