"Noctessa," the first goddess, rising from the ruins of forgotten creation, erased from time but never truly gone, hyperdetailed, 8k resolution concept art, WLOP, Moebius, Royo, celestial rebirth, divine ruins crumbling, golden dust swirling in the void. She should not exist. But in the hollow space where light dies and the underworld breathes its first exhale, something stirs. The ground fractures, ancient symbols long buried beneath the bones of Olympus breaking open like shattered glass. A deep, resonant hum shakes the void as golden dust spirals into the air, coiling into something tangible, alive, inevitable. From the abyss, she rises. Noctessa’s form is forged from the remnants of creation itself, her skin luminous with the last glow of a dying sun, her violet-black hair shifting between shadow and mist, woven from the very fabric of night itself. As she ascends, the fragments of her lost kingdom lift around her—crumbling temples, shattered celestial thrones, the remnants of an empire stolen from her. Her eyes, once veiled in forgetfulness, snap open—twin galaxies burning with the knowledge of what has been done. The gods buried her. They took her name, her throne, her story. But Noctessa remembers now. And the heavens will tremble at her return.