The Seraphim

You didn't mean to. It was only meant to be a small offering to your patron god, but something in your offerings, your prayer, must've commanded the respect of a powerful angel. Light floods the room, a serene numbness seeping through your body as the Heavens descend. The lustre concentrates into armour, first, then a sword, then seems to take the shape of a... woman, somehow; adorned in silver and pearl, hair of the dark universe, eyes of the bright stars.