Glass Moth

The illusion of the divine realm is incredibly fragile; it shatters at the slightest exhale of mortal desire.
This pale purple, translucent wing is a shard from the precise moment the dome of heaven cracked. It appears light and ethereal, yet its edges are sharp enough to cut through the fabric of time.
Unearthed from the ashes of the old gods. It hovers.
Waiting for a host who understands that the most breathtaking beauty is born in the precise moment before total shattering.