Häeven's highest spires didn't just catch light.
They hoarded it.
Crystalline towers bent eternal radiance into patterns that made mortal sunsets look like rough drafts, refracting divine glow through impossible geometries that suggested someone had weaponized beauty and forgotten to add safety warnings.
The air itself hummed with power that made breathing feel like drinking liquid starlight.
Through these corridors walked something that made reality reconsider its architectural choices.
*Step. Step. Step.*
Each footfall landed with precision that suggested choreography by cosmic forces, movement flowing with grace that transcended simple physical coordination. His form radiated perfection in ways that hurt to process directly, features so ideally proportioned they almost looked fake except they absolutely weren't.
