The creator's world was a beautiful, ethereal land of glass, a forest of opalescent trees sparsely scattered across translucent grass and crystal flowers. Despite being underground, the forest is bright and filled with a comforting breeze, like it is basking in the light of two sunrises.

And like everything else in this world, the creator is beautiful.

She says she is unruly, yet there is a clear discipline in her posture.

She says she is dangerous, yet there is an undoubted innocence in the way she wears her snow-white hair.

She says she is not as beautiful as her creations, yet to Sivinka, who beheld her form as she sits curled in the opaque grass, laughing as Prairie nuzzled her palms, she is the most beautiful, most graceful, most perfect being he ever set eyes upon.

"This is not my original form" she once said, in the early spring when the trees' crystal leaves tinkled like wind chimes in the breeze. "My original form is shadowy, a thing of darkness and obscurity."

"But you do not need it." Sivinka had replied, brushing past his white hair, which he had combed in a mimicry of the creator. He could never take her form, of course, for while she was human in appearance, he had the upper body of a man and the lower of a deer, with two flowering antlers sprouting from his forehead. "You do not need your true self to be elegant."

She had smiled then, but it was a sad, unfathomable smile that held eons of memories behind it, which seemed to say "One day you will understand."

Sivinka approached the creator, and his sister Prairie looked up, delight evident in seeing her eldest sibling. The creator had shaped them differently - Prairie fully wore the shape of a deer, and while she did not have his unblemished skin and dexterous fingers, they were alike in the shape of their hooves and the white fur of their backs, and they were family. He smiled and reached out to scratch her around the base of her ear, and Prairie twisted her head to lick at his fingers, the flowers growing upon her antler scattering light green petals all the while.

"How is everyone?" asked the creator. To him, her voice sounded deep, smooth and crystal clear all at once. Like fire and wind, waves and sea breeze.

Jovially, he replied with a "They're all good". Looking up at the golden pollen drifting down like rain, Sivinka recounted events. "Fae and Horizon went to the cloud spirits some time ago and came back with fluffy bread slung across their backs in little smoky bags. Florian still fancies himself a would-be guardian, and Dei's horns are growing steadily more cream in colour."

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"That is good to hear." she smiled.

"What of the world outside our Forest?" Sivinka asked.

"A new dragon was born, in the far northern reaches of the snow ravines. She is a frost dragon and her eyes are purple-tinted pink, her scales like gleaming blue sapphires. One week old, and her eyes are already beginning to glow in the dark. They named her Khione."

Sivinka hummed in approval. The birth of a new dragon was always a cause of celebration.

"How is the other youngling doing?" Sivinka inquired after the other of the two dragon hatchlings. "Still having trouble flying?"

"I saw Tlaloc yesterday. He flies wonderfully now."

"Tlaloc." he raised his hand and tilted his head to better look at how the golden pollen settled and disappeared on his fingertips. "Such a complicated name."

"Dragons follow their own naming sense. It may sound lovely to some, and strange to others." the creator replied. He can feel her watching him, thinking, surely coming up with ideas on how existing structures can be improved and made more beautiful.

"Well," said Sivinka, "beauty depends on the eye of the beholder, after all."

He looked down and inspected his hooves, a clear iridescent thing of crystal and glass nearly invisible amongst the transparent stretches of grass. Almost everything in this area is made of glass and mirrors, but one can make out their shapes perfectly thanks to the constant rain of golden pollen. Prairie decided to rest her head against his side, carefully manoeuvring her glass antlers so they don't snag.

Without looking up, he continued to speak. "A crystal wren came to me yesterday. She wanted to report that roaming bands of adventurers were spotted setting up camps in the next mountain over. Our cloaks and defences have already been checked to be sound."

"Interesting" the creator mused. "Perhaps they have heard news of the new dragon?"

"Whatever it is, humans never mean good things for us."

The creator hummed. "That may not always be true." she replied mysteriously. Before he could inquire, she suddenly stood up and snapped her head in the direction of the entrance.

Instantly, a huge amount of attention focused on a single point and a terrifying aura circulated around her. The creator did not change visibly, yet something seemed to shift, and suddenly the innocence, the beauty, the perfection became warped. Darker, scarier.

The once peaceful atmosphere was filled with tension. Prairie shot up, and Sivinka stood in front of her protectively. Was this what she meant, when she claimed that her beauty was a façade?

"We will have to catch up later," the creator drawled in a low, almost serpentine hiss. "It seems we have a visitor."