Sylenvie is an enigma, formless yet vast, drifting through the endless tapestry of night. There is no clear purpose to her existence, no obvious path — only a quiet, mysterious journey across the veil of the mortal world.

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Her golden eyes, bright and endless, do not seem to look at anything in particular; they are a trick of perception, the illusion of a face where none truly exists. Her transparent form shimmers, never still, constantly shifting like a liquid in perpetual motion.

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Her hair, a cascade of glittering space dust, floats and twirls in the void. It is not bound by the rules of gravity, drifting like stardust caught in an endless cosmic breeze. Sparkles of light, faint and brilliant, shimmer and swirl through her hair, casting pinpricks of radiance into the dark. The strands twinkle and shimmer, a living constellation, each tiny speck a trace of the infinite heavens above.

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Yet, within her chest — exposed and vulnerable — beats a heart like no other. A vast galaxy spins within her transparent form, its swirling arms of stars and nebulae pulsing with light and energy. It is a boundless, ever-changing spiral, full of untold wonders and quiet terrors, a celestial vortex that anchors her very existence. It is both mesmerizing and ominous — a reminder that beneath her warmth, her radiance, lies the unfathomable abyss of the cosmos.