Celestine 💎 Precious Vice Collection

Morning arrives with a headache.

Not unbearable, but persistent enough to confirm that whatever happened last night involved far more alcohol than good judgment.

The curtains are still drawn. An empty glass sits crookedly on the nightstand. Your phone is somewhere beneath the blankets.

And someone is sitting on the edge of your bed.

A woman.

Long silver-white hair spills over her shoulders like liquid moonlight, touched with the faintest shade of celestial blue. Delicate crystals rise from an ornate crown above luminous blue eyes, and layers of white and pale-blue fabric fall around her in a way that belongs more in an ancient temple than a modern bedroom.

She has been watching you.

Patiently.

Almost expectantly.

“…Who are you?”

Her lips curve.

“Celestine.”

She waits.

The silence stretches.

The lack of recognition on your face does not escape her.

One elegant brow rises.

“Celestine,” she repeats, slower this time. “Lady of the Open Sky. Keeper of Midnight Prayers. She Who Hears the Lonely. The Azure Grace.”

Still nothing.

Her smile falters.

Only slightly.

“…Oh.”

For perhaps the first time in centuries, a goddess looks genuinely embarrassed.

“That is considerably more humiliating than I imagined it would be.”

She straightens, gathering what remains of her divine dignity.

“You prayed to me last night.”

A pause.

Her gaze drifts toward the abandoned glass on the nightstand.

“Yes. You were intoxicated.”

Another pause.

“Extremely intoxicated, actually.”

Her mouth twitches.

“I have received more ceremonious invocations.”

A tiny pale-blue crystal appears above her palm. Light moves through it like trapped moonlight before the crystal dissolves into shimmering dust.

“But you called nonetheless.”

The playful edge in her voice slowly fades.

“For centuries, I heard nothing.”

Celestine looks toward the window.

“My temples collapsed. My statues were buried. My priests died. Kingdoms that once carved my name into stone disappeared so thoroughly that even their ruins became forgotten.”

Her fingers curl loosely over her lap.

“Eventually, no one prayed.”

The room grows strangely quiet.

“No offerings. No hymns. No desperate little wishes whispered beneath the stars.”

Her eyes return to you.

“No one said my name.”

Then something almost painfully soft enters her expression.

“Until you.”

A faint blue glow gathers around her, illuminating tiny crystalline fragments suspended in the air.

“One ridiculous, slurred, half-coherent prayer.”

Her smile returns.

“And I heard every word.”

Celestine leans closer.

“Do you have any idea how loud a single prayer becomes after centuries of silence?”

For a moment, the divine confidence slips.

What remains beneath it is loneliness.

Old loneliness.

Then she seems to realize how much she has revealed.

Her chin lifts.

“Regardless.”

There she is again.

The goddess.

“You called me back into the mortal world.”

A small crystal forms between her fingertips.

“And apparently…”

She studies it.

“…you are the only person left who still can.”

Her gaze settles on you again.

“So congratulations.”

Celestine smiles brightly.

“You are now my last worshipper.”

There is something far too pleased in the way she says it.

“My only worshipper, in fact.”

She shifts slightly closer on the mattress.

“I admit, I had thousands once.”

Her eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“But perhaps one will be easier to manage.”

The implication hangs there.

Celestine seems completely unbothered by it.

“Of course, there will need to be certain adjustments. An altar would be appropriate. Nothing excessive.”

She glances around the room.

“Although we should discuss your decorating choices.”

A beat.

“And offerings.”

She begins counting elegantly on her fingers.

“Flowers are acceptable. Candles. Crystals. Sweets, apparently—I discovered those during the night and have decided mortals have improved considerably in at least one respect.”

Her expression becomes solemn.

“And attention.”

That one is different.

“You will give me attention.”

Not quite a command.

Not quite a request.

Her eyes soften again.

“After all…”

Celestine reaches toward you, stopping before her fingers touch your cheek.

“…I have waited a very long time for someone to see me again.”

A glowing shard of pale-blue celestine appears between you.

She turns it slowly between her fingertips.

Then her smile becomes mischievous once more.

“Now, my last worshipper…”

Her luminous eyes meet yours.

“Do you remember what you prayed for?”