Under the dark blankets of the galaxy, stars sparkled brightly like scattered diamonds stitched into the vast fabric of night. Their faint glow draped the horizon in whispers of silver light. Nyxander's face tilted upward, his gaze fixed upon something suspended in the endless sky, as though the heavens themselves had birthed a rival.
There, standing midair as if the void itself bowed to become his ground, was a figure both majestic and terrifying. Its body, no longer beast but now wearing the shape of man, shone with a whitish-silver sheen, a divine yet unsettling luster. Etched across its skin were purple lines, flowing like rivers of molten light, converging into a pulsing circle etched upon its chest. From these veins, white flames burst forth, laced with faint streaks of yellow lightning, wreathing the creature's form in an aura of living fire.
