In the reception hall of the Light Cathedral's side chamber, the heavy silence was broken by faint footsteps. The oak door silently slid open, and soft light flooded in, outlining a figure surrounded by several clergy members wearing pristine priest robes.
Julia, the Holy Daughter of Light, walked in.
In that instant, it was as if even the air became sacred and rarefied.
She was dressed in a simple yet divinely radiant long white dress, her silver hair resembling a waterfall woven from moonlight, bound at the back by a simple, luminous crown of thorns.
Her features were as exquisite as a statue carved by the most devout craftsman using a lifetime of dedication, flawless. Her skin was pale, almost transparent, appearing to emit a gentle glow from within under the celestial light streaming through the high windows.
But what truly captivated the soul were those eyes.
