They arrive through a portal into what looks like the heart of an alien jungle.
The two merrily walk into a conglomeration of plant life that came from dozens of worlds and timelines woven together into one dense, impossible garden. Colors and species that don't belong in the same reality growing side by side without complaint. Vines with the texture of starlight coil around trunks that pulse faintly like something breathing, and somewhere overhead a canopy of translucent, glowing petals drifts down in slow, lazy spirals that never quite seem to land, as if stuck in a little time-loop of their own. Underfoot, the grass hums faintly with a note too low for mortal ears, though Serenith's whole body seems to feel it anyway.
The angel leads Serenith through the undergrowth, both of them humming with quiet contentment.
"I'm Milrenia," she offers over her shoulder. "Second seat of the Twelfth Choir, Sixth Beta Order, Fifty-Seventh Branch of the Chorus of Virtue."
