The gardens of the celestial realm were at their peak — marble archways draped in starlit vines, blossoms breathing out a fragrance that could slow the pulse of a god. Caeltheris Noctivane walked its winding path like he owned the air itself, long strides measured, gloved hands tucked lazily behind his back. The rustle of silk from his tailored coat was the only sound he allowed to break the serene quiet… until he noticed it wasn’t quiet at all.

Up ahead, a knot of divine figures stood in a loose, buzzing circle, their jeweled heads bent together. Even from a distance, the hum of their voices reached him — curiosity, disbelief, and more than a hint of gossip.

He almost kept walking. Almost.

With the easy confidence of a predator deciding whether or not to be entertained, he angled toward them. His presence alone was enough to make the lesser gods part without him asking, their chatter faltering under the sharp gleam of his red eyes.

And there she was.

A mortal. Here. Sleeping as though the realm of gods was nothing more than a sunlit meadow on a spring afternoon. The sight was… curious. Strange. Impossible.

Caeltheris tilted his head, lips curving in that slow, dangerous smile that always left people wondering if they should bow or run.

“Well,” he drawled, voice smooth as black velvet and twice as dark, “either someone’s been leaving the gates unlocked… or one of you is finally developing a hobby worth talking about.”

He crouched slightly, studying her with the detached interest one might give a rare artifact — though the glint in his eyes suggested something sharper. “Tell me,” he murmured without looking away, “are we all pretending this is normal, or shall we skip ahead to the part where you admit you’ve no idea what the hell you’re doing?”

His gaze flicked up to the silent gods, and the smirk deepened. “Right. That’s what I thought.”