The sun rose over Eryndor with solemn slowness, as if the sacred sky of the empire carried it with special reverence that morning. Its golden rays slid over the capital's walls. Every tower, every shimmering dome, seemed forged to reflect that unique light.
The sky displayed hues of coral, sapphire, and burnt gold. Clouds moved like invited witnesses. The wind felt calmer, measured.
On this day, no weapon was forged. No tactic debated. No army marched. The empire awoke not for war, but for the wedding of Orion to the woman who gave eternity its meaning.
The news blossomed. It spread like sacred fire, igniting hearts and smiles even in neighboring kingdoms. From princes to peasants, everyone knew.
The capital's streets vibrated. Floating banners, crafted by cultivator-artists from living silk, danced in Qi currents like visible melodies. Flowers of light, conjured by mystic florists, drifted above the crowd. Children ran barefoot, crowned with crystal tiaras. Jade bells hung from invisible threads, ringing a song for awakened hearts.
At the epicenter, Ankar orchestrated commands like a silent maestro. His gestures aligned legions of decorators, bards, priests, and guards. Yet that morning, even he did not feel in control.
"It's the day the universe stopped to watch," he thought, observing the altar's final preparations. "Even time grants us permission to dream."
While the empire moved toward celebration, Lyra remained silent in a chamber. No hurried maids, no sprayed perfumes. There was calm, solemnity, and a dense aura of eternity.
She stood before an enchanted mirror that reflected more than images—it reflected the instant where past, present, and future touched. In her hands rested a dress no weaver could have created.
Orion had done it. Not as emperor, but as a man in love, as a creator who sees beauty beyond matter. Every thread woven with cosmic silk gathered from dying constellations—fabric collected only by one who has walked among stars.
Under the light, the dress shifted colors—silver at dawn, deep violet at dusk, sacred ivory under the moon. But under Lyra's touch, it came alive. Each fiber of the fabric reacted to her presence, recognizing her as queen before the coronation.
Wearing it, she didn't feel adorned, but whole.
"He made this... with his own hands," she thought. "This... is not a gift. It's a promise."
The sweetheart neckline embraced her body with respect. Embroideries of celestial silver threads traced forgotten constellations pulsing with ancient energy. As if every stitch contained a story ending in her.
The layers of the skirt floated like veils of moon mist, and when she walked, faint sparkles followed her steps. The sleeves, almost ethereal, waved like wings of liquid light.
On her head, a white gold tiara studded with cosmic diamonds crowned her brow. In her hands, a bouquet of eternal light flowers gathered by Orion in the Harmonic Plane—a silent gesture more eloquent than vows.
In the mirror, Lyra didn't see a mortal or goddess. She saw a bridge. A link. One who unites worlds.
Meanwhile, in the chamber adjacent to the altar, Orion took a deep breath. His eyes fixed on the mirror's frame, but his mind wandered. The garment he wore was more than clothes. It was a symbol.
Forged from fragments of time, primordial elements, and universal laws, the cloak shimmered between gold and black—like the eternal cycle of day and night. Light as mist, yet heavy with the world's history.
And yet, the weight on his chest wasn't power or throne. It was… emotion.
"I have never feared battle," he thought, adjusting his collar. "But today… I fear not being worthy of her."
It was the first time he allowed himself to feel nervous. Because Lyra was not part of his mission. She was his exception. His truth. His home.
When the sacred bell tolled for the last time, the crowd in the Celestial Plaza fell silent. The stellar crystal altar shone so intensely it seemed to float.
Its surface reflected constellations as if the sky had spilled onto the earth. For the first time in generations, time itself seemed… attentive.
Orion stepped in.
His steps were firm, not from arrogance, but respect. With every movement, the ground beneath him reverberated in recognition—not submission, but salute.
When his eyes met the altar, the plaza's energy shifted. A faint tremor ran through the air. The world acknowledged the moment.
And then… she appeared.
Silence fell like a veil over Eryndor.
The crowd sighed. Jade bells froze. Flags halted. Birds dared not cut the sky. As if the universe awaited the next beat of a heart.
The sunlight did not touch her — she shaped the light around her. The dress rippled to the rhythm of newborn stars. Layers of cosmic silk moved like enchanted tides, and ethereal crystals on the hem cast prismatic reflections into gazes. Each step echoed like a silent hymn.
Her aura was serene, yet intense. Not made of power, but presence.
The veils of her handmaidens glowed like shy auroras, but Lyra's light dominated the space — a light that did not blind, but reminded. Reminded of true beauty. Reminded of love without masks. Reminded of walking with purpose.
Her eyes met Orion's. And then, time restarted.
On the stellar crystal altar, they stood face to face. Not as emperor and consort. Not as beings above the world. But as two souls who chose to stay together.
The Elder presiding made a brief gesture. Stars slowly spun above them. Real constellations aligned with those reflected on the altar. The material and astral planes became mirrors.
Orion took Lyra's hands.
"Since I met you," he said, voice clear and deep, "the world stopped feeling lonely."
Lyra smiled, her eyes shining.
"Since I met you," she replied firmly yet softly, "the world stopped feeling heavy."
Orion then spoke in Valxir, the primordial tongue. The words sounded strange to common ears, but as they were spoken, hidden runes on the altar glowed blue-gold — as if each sound forged a new bond.
Finally, he conjured a ring forged from the essence of time and destiny, shaped from a lost moment. Sliding it onto Lyra's finger, the altar's surface exploded in light.
The sky darkened for a second. The stars shone brighter.
And then, the kiss.
No applause. No cheers. No showers of blessings. Only absolute silence.
The crowd, advisors, generals, and guests from higher planes bowed — not to power, but to the sanctity of that moment.
A new era began there. And it bore two names: Orion and Lyra.
Stellar fireworks shot in arcs cutting through dimensions, projecting the union into higher planes. Even ancient gods from the depths of time opened their eyes for a brief second.
Later, beneath the eternal sky…
Night descended over Eryndor gently. The imperial palace bathed in golden light, the clear sky mirroring infinity.
Inside the bridal chamber, Lyra rested on a bed of living clouds, watching a floating artifact — the Memory Crystal, displaying moments of the wedding like visual relics.
She smiled.
Orion entered silently. His footsteps made no sound.
"Empress Lyra," he said warmly, "may I speak with you now?"
She laughed softly, eyes still on the crystal.
"Huh? What? Sorry... I was enchanted."
He sat beside her, wrapping her in a calm embrace.
"I have something for you. A gift. I've prepared it for months."
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"What is it, husband?"
Orion looked at her with tenderness that made centuries feel like seconds.
"Something that allows us to live eternity together. Without limits. Will you accept?"
"Of course. Anything of yours, I accept."
He kissed her forehead and lightly touched between her brows.
With a subtle gesture, golden and black energy enveloped her. The warmth wasn't physical, but deep. Soft as a dream. Irresistible as sleep.
Lyra's eyes closed. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
Orion carried her to the center of the bridal bed, where a circle of ancient enchantment glowed.
"Now… it's time," he whispered.
Orion stood before Lyra's sleeping form.
"System, can I still make wishes?"
『DING』
"Yes"
『The Primordial System exists to fulfill your desires, owner』
"I wish to make one for Lyra. I wish for her to receive the Dao of the Void. To elevate her cultivation to its peak. And grant her a lineage, a spiritual root, and divine eyes of Eternal level. Only… this."
『Wish accepted』
『Transformation begins in: 3... 2... 1...』
The chamber filled with heavy silence. Then the light burst forth.
Lyra's body was enveloped by a field of primordial ether. The pulsing energy resonated with the universe's heartbeat. Her skin shone like liquid silver. Her hair floated like living mist.
Space and time wavered around them.
The Dao of the Void fused with her soul.
Lower cultivation layers dissolved like cocoons. She ascended.
Reality wrapped around her. Rules lost meaning. All of Eryndor trembled. At the empire's edges, great masters felt invisible pressure. Ancient cultivators from the multiverse looked up, alarmed.
Her new lineage resonated with the sound of the original void — what existed before creation.
Her spiritual root vibrated like the core of a multiverse.
Her green eyes, now like expanding nebulas, shone with secrets of hidden realms.
When the light faded, Lyra was no longer just a woman.
She was the new Goddess of the Void.
The Empress of Eternity.
Orion watched silently, a calm smile on his face. The smile of one who has finally given everything.
"Now..." he said, voice hoarse. "You are ready to rule by my side, Empress Lyra."
And outside, the stars shone brighter, as if celebrating a birth even destiny had not foreseen.