The cosmic throne room trembled as Veylith descended from her celestial perch above the churning gate. Her feet touched the starlight-hardened floor with a soft click of elegance, and immediately the oppressive atmosphere that had pressed down upon them like a physical weight began to lift. The shadows retreated, the air grew lighter, and the very architecture seemed to exhale with relief.
As she stretched, rolling her shoulders and extending her arms as if emerging from a centuries-long imprisonment, the oppressive majesty of her domain collapsed into something far more... intimate. The cosmic horror dissolved, revealing what lay beneath: an old, still classy fantasy pub that had been masked by layers of theatrical illusion.
