High Saintess Paron draped herself in the sanctified robes of her station, an ethereal garment woven from the finest silver-threaded silk.
The flowing fabric, embroidered with celestial patterns of golden dragons and divine scripture, cascaded down her slender frame like liquid moonlight.
Its wide sleeves billowed with every measured step, exuding an air of divine authority.
A golden clasp, shaped like a dragon in mid-flight, fastened the robe at her throat, and her headdress, a towering circlet of filigreed gold, glimmered under the morning sun.
She was the embodiment of divinity, the light of the people, the beacon of Silverston's faith.
The star that all revered. And why not?
She was their savior, their guiding hand. The one who spread the gospel of the Eternal Dragon, who healed the sick, who fed the poor.
Her name was sung in the hymns of children and whispered in the desperate prayers of the hopeless.
