Serenith feels, for the first time in what might be centuries, absolutely, uncomplicatedly blissful.
Her whole body has gone light and breezy, her mind dipped in something warm and slow and syrupy, every thought arriving soft and languid.
Her frame sinks in on itself, melting into her own contentment like she's finally set down a weight she forgot she'd been carrying.
Then her eyes flutter open, and the eldritch hellscape that nearly cracked her mind apart a moment ago has resolved itself into something else entirely. Before her is a vast, immaculate, impossibly clean transport hub, angels darting between platforms in every direction, tiered levels stretching further than her mind would let her properly process.
It's mind-numbing serene.
Gold and pale marble underfoot, cool and faintly luminous, water features trickling somewhere unseen, columns rising into a ceiling that seems to be several different skies at once, all of them cloudless.
