1000 Years Ago, Mortal Realm — Virelya
Virelya. A kingdom carved from white marble and gilded with gold, where towering temples stretched like arms to the sky, and the streets shimmered under the constant glow of devotion. The air was thick with the scent of incense and whispered prayers, a place where gods were praised—and where beauty was worshipped like a living deity.
Inside the Grand Temple of Lirael, the goddess of purity and light, the atmosphere was solemn and sacred. High above the polished marble floors, golden rays of sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the kneeling masses.
And there, in the center of it all, stood Selmora.
She moved like a goddess herself, draped in flowing silken robes that shimmered with threads of gold, each step measured and deliberate. Her hair fell in waves of silver, catching the light like liquid moonbeams. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on her, but none dared to speak, only bow in reverence.
