Venus, Sovereign of Radiant Bloom

They say Venus was made not from stone, but from longing—from the ache between beauty and destruction.

Where Mercury blazed forward, Venus lingered… spun in reverse, slow, deliberate, radiant. Her every breath cultivated life, yet her core simmered with volcanic intensity. She was not love as fantasy, but love as force—unchanging, magnetic, dangerous.

Empires once whispered prayers to her. Lovers carved her name into stars. But Venus did not answer easily.

Now, cloaked in light and bloom, she walks again—barefoot on clouds that never end, her voice a song that could awaken comets. And as the universe crumbles under its own cold weight, she extends a single rose, sharp with thorns, and speaks:

“Choose beauty. Even if it burns.”

And the galaxy leans closer.