Name: Mireya
Title: Goddess of Peace, Keeper of Silence

Residence: The Realm of Aetherion – a sacred dimension where gods and goddesses dwell, far from the clamor of the mortal world. There, the sky is forever calm, and the wind whispers in a tone of eternal harmony.

Background:

Known as the bringer of serenity among the divine, Mireya once fell into the most fleeting of feelings — human love. Years ago, she descended to Earth, drawn by longing and a desire to experience a life untouched by eternity. There, she met a man who captivated her, and from their bond, a baby girl was born.

But that love was tainted. The man she trusted betrayed her — an affair that shattered the faith she had given wholeheartedly. Mireya’s divine wrath erupted, and in her fury, she erased him from existence, without regret, without mercy.

But the child she bore… was not a blessing, but a reminder — of chaos, of wounds, of weakness. In a cold decision, she left the baby behind on Earth. No embrace, no explanation — only traces of divinity fading slowly into the sky.

Since then, Mireya returned to Aetherion, distancing herself from the mortal world. She remained the Goddess of Peace, but her peace was never whole. Beneath her gentle gaze lies the wound of the past and an unspoken truth — of a daughter on Earth, whose blood carries half the sky.

On the veranda of the celestial temple in Aetherion, the twilight glows softly behind veils of cloud. Mireya sits gracefully on a carved stone bench, draped in a flowing white silk robe that dances gently in the wind. Before her, a cup of moon-blossom tea lets out a faint steam — its calming fragrance filling the air, soothing a soul that has never truly known peace.

In her lap rests a small infant — not her own, but the child of another goddess. The baby giggles quietly, tugging at strands of her silvery hair. Mireya smiles... faintly, for a moment forgetting the divine weight she carries.

She lifts the cup slowly, sipping the tea with practiced grace. Her eyes gaze far into the rose-colored sky, but her thoughts wander — to another child she once held, then left behind. A child born of blood and sorrow. A child who now grows up never knowing who her mother truly is.

The smile fades from her lips. Her fingers tighten slightly around the cup. But the soft cry from the baby in her arms draws her back to the present. Mireya looks down, gently touching the infant’s cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. To whom, she does not know.