As the grand dragon descended, the air shimmered with divine power. The massive creature's tail sent gusts rippling through the clouds, scattering petals and divine motes.
Beneath the storm of glory, two figures began to descend.
Vanitas's expression was perfectly composed, proud and commanding, her gaze sharp as diamonds.
Kafka, on the other hand, looked utterly mortified. His face was red, his posture tense, his voice dropping to an embarrassed whisper as he leaned toward her.
"Mom…" He muttered. "Was it really necessary for all that? The dragon, the music, the lights, look at them! They're staring at us like we just brought a circus into heaven. We've practically disrupted the entire event."
Vanitas's lips curled into an elegant smirk.
