In the center of the square, the air seems to part, bending to an unseen force as two figures materialize, fading into existence from a world beyond the reach of ordinary senses. Angel stands at an astounding fifteen feet, her form luminescent and shimmering with an otherworldly glow that spills like stardust from her skin. Her golden hair cascades down her back in waves, catching and amplifying the light, a halo marking her presence as something sacred. The dire wolf Drakari stands beside her, his midnight coat gleaming like polished obsidian, his eyes pools of molten gold.

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