The sun of Eryndor rose slowly, as if the sacred heavens of the empire carried it with reverence only on that morning. Its golden rays slid over the capital's walls like divine fingers caressing a living relic. Every tower, every shimmering dome, seemed forged for a single purpose: to reflect the light of that moment.
The sky wasn't merely blue. It was coral, sapphire, burnt gold. A spectacle of colors danced upon clouds that didn't move by chance, but as if summoned to witness. Even the wind seemed calmer, measured, respectful.
On that day, no weapons were forged. No tactics debated. No armies marched. The empire awoke not for war, but for something surpassing even the most epic battles: Orion's wedding to the woman who gave meaning to eternity.
The news didn't just spread—it blossomed. It ran like sacred fire, igniting hearts, smiles, and tears even in neighboring kingdoms' palaces. From princes to peasants, all knew.
The capital's streets fluttered in celebration. Floating banners, crafted by cultivator-artists with living silk, danced unaided in Qi currents that crossed the air like visible melodies. Flowers of light, conjured from ethereal planes by mystical florists, floated over the crowd like gentle blessings. Children ran barefoot with crystal crowns on their brows. And jade bells, hung on invisible threads, chimed a song only heard by those with awakened hearts.
At the epicenter stood Ankar. His hands coordinated commands like a silent conductor. Each gesture realigned legions of decorators, bards, priests, and guards. Yet that morning, even he felt not in control.
"It's the day the universe paused to watch" he thought, observing final altar preparations. "And even time seems to grant us permission to dream"
As the empire moved toward celebration, Lyra stood silent within a hall. No maids rushed, no perfumes hastily sprayed. There was calm, solemnity, and a dense aura of eternity.
She stood before an enchanted mirror reflecting more than images—reflecting the moment where past, present, and future touched delicately. In her hands rested a dress no weaver in the world could have created.
Orion made it. Not as emperor. But as a man in love, as a creator who sees beauty beyond matter. Each thread was woven from cosmic silk harvested from collapsing constellations—a fabric only gathered by those who'd walked among stars.
Under light's touch, the dress shifted hue—silver at dawn, deep violet at dusk, sacred ivory under the moon. But under Lyra's touch, it truly came alive. Every cell of the fabric seemed to react to her presence, recognizing her as queen even before coronation.
As she wore it, she felt not adorned—but complete.
'He made this... with his own hands' she thought. 'This... isn't a gift. It's a promise'
The heart-shaped neckline embraced her body with respect and reverence. Embroidery with celestial silver threads traced forgotten constellations pulsing with ancestral energy. As if every stitch held a story—and all ended with her.
The skirt's layers floated like moonlit-mist veils, and when she walked, a dance of faint glimmers followed her steps. The sleeves, almost ethereal, rippled like wings of liquid light.
On her head, a tiara of white gold studded with cosmic diamonds crowned her brow with quiet elegance. In her hands, a bouquet of eternal light-flowers, gathered by Orion in the Harmonic Plane—a silent gesture saying more than any vow.
Gazing into the mirror, Lyra saw herself not as mortal, nor goddess. She saw herself as a bridge. As a link. As one uniting 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 attire he wore wasn't mere clothing. It was a symbol.
Forged from fragments of time, primordial elements, and universal laws, the cloak shifted between gold and black—like the eternal cycle of day and night. Light as mist, yet heavy with the world's history.
And yet, what weighed on his chest wasn't power, nor the throne. It was... emotion.
'I never feared battles' he thought, adjusting his collar lightly. 'But today... I fear being unworthy of her'
It was the first time he allowed himself to feel nervousness. Because Lyra wasn't part of his mission. She was his exception. His truth. His home.
As the sacred bell chimed one last time, the crowd gathered in Celestial Plaza fell silent. The altar of stellar crystal, newly erected by architects, gleamed so intensely it seemed to float midair.
Its surface reflected constellations as if the sky had been poured onto earth. And for the first time in generations, time seemed... attentive.
Orion entered.
His steps held firmness not from arrogance, but respect. With each movement, the ground beneath him reverberated in recognition. Not submission—but salutation.
When his eyes met the altar, the plaza's energy shifted. A faint tremor crossed the air. The world acknowledged the moment.
And then... she appeared.
Silence fell like a veil over Eryndor.
The crowd drew a collective breath. Jade bells froze midair. Floating banners halted in the wind. Not even birds dared slice the sky. As if the universe itself awaited the next heartbeat.
Sunlight didn't touch her—she shaped the light around her. The dress rippled with the rhythm of birthing stars. Layers of cosmic silk moved like enchanted tides, and ethereal crystals embroidered on the hem cast prismatic reflections dancing in the crowd's eyes. Every step echoed like a silent hymn.
Her aura was serene yet intense. Not made of power—but presence.
Her handmaidens' veils shimmered like timid auroras around her, but Lyra's light dominated the space—a light that didn't blind, but made one remember. Remember true beauty. Remember love without masks. Remember walking with purpose and wholeness.
Her eyes met Orion's. And then, time finally restarted.
At the stellar crystal altar, they stood before each other. Not as emperor and consort. Not as entities above the world. But as two beings who'd chosen, after all, to remain together.
The Elder presiding made a brief gesture. Stars began spinning slowly above them. Royal constellations aligned with those reflected on the altar. Material and astral planes became perfect mirrors.
Orion held Lyra's hands.
"Since I met you" he said, voice clear and deep "the world ceased to feel lonely"
Lyra smiled, eyes glistening.
"Since I met you" she replied with firm softness "the world ceased to feel heavy"
Orion then spoke in Valxir, the primordial tongue. Words were unrecognizable to common ears, yet as spoken, hidden runes on the altar glowed blue-gold—as if each sound forged a new bond between them.
Finally, he conjured a ring forged from the essence of time and destiny, shaped from a lost moment. As he slid it onto Lyra's finger, the altar's surface exploded with light.
The sky darkened for a second. Stars pulsed brighter.
And then, the kiss.
No applause. No cheers. No rehearsed showers of blessings. Only perfect silence.
The crowd, counselors, generals, even guests from higher planes bowed—not to power, but to the sanctity of that instant.
A new era began there. And it bore two names: Orion and Lyra.
Stellar fires shot in arcs cutting through dimensions, projecting images of the union onto higher planes. Even ancient gods, slumbering in time's depths, opened their eyes for a fleeting second.
Later, under the eternal sky...
Night descended on Eryndor with delicacy, like a dark tapestry hand-embroidered. The imperial palace bathed in golden light, the sky so clear it mirrored infinity.
Inside the bridal chamber, Lyra rested on a bed of living clouds, watching a floating artifact—the Memory Crystal, displaying wedding moments like eternal visual relics.
She smiled.
Orion entered silently. His steps made no sound.
"Empress Lyra" he said warmly "may I speak with you now?"
She laughed softly, eyes still on the crystal.
"Huh? What? I'm sorry... I was enchanted"
He approached and sat beside her, enfolding her in a tranquil embrace.
"I have something for you. A gift. I've prepared it for months"
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"What is it, husband?"
Orion gazed at her with a tenderness making centuries feel like seconds.
"Something letting us live eternity together. Without limits. Will you accept?"
"Of course. Anything from you, I accept"
He kissed her forehead, then lightly touched between her brows.
With a subtle gesture, gold and black energy enveloped her. The warmth wasn't physical—but profound. Gentle as a dream. Irresistible as sleep.
Lyra's eyes closed. She slept with a smile on her lips.
Orion carried her to the center of the bridal bed, where an ancestral enchantment circle 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 wishes, owner』
"I wish to make one for Lyra. I wish her to receive the Dao of Void. Elevate her cultivation to its peak. And grant her a bloodline, a spiritual root, and Eternal-grade divine eyes. Just... this"
『Wish accepted』
『Transformation initiating in: 3... 2... 1...』
The chamber filled with heavy silence. Then light erupted.
Lyra's body was engulfed in a field of primordial ether. Energy pulsing from her resonated with the universe's heartbeat. Her skin glowed liquid silver. Her hair floated like living mist.
Space and time wavered around her.
The Dao of Void fused with her soul.
Lower cultivation layers shattered like cocoons. She began ascending.
Reality bent around her. Rules lost meaning. All Eryndor trembled. In the empire's farthest reaches, grandmasters felt invisible pressure. The multiverse's oldest cultivators gazed skyward in alarm.
Her new bloodline resonated with the sound of original void—what existed before creation.
Her spiritual root vibrated like a multiverse's core.
Her green eyes, now like expanding nebulae, blazed with secrets of hidden realms.
When the light faded, Lyra was no longer just a woman.
She was the new Goddess of Void.
The Empress of Eternity.
Orion watched silently, a calm smile on his face. A smile of one who'd finally given everything.
"Now..." he said, voice thick. "You're ready to rule beside me, Empress Lyra"
And outside, stars burned brighter—as if celebrating a birth even destiny hadn't foreseen.