From the cosmic void, where reality's fabric tears like gilded silk, emerges the Gilded Tempest. Its form, a surreal and dreamlike spectacle, is adorned with wing claws sharp enough to rend the veil between worlds. Bathed in the warm glow of 3000K light, reminiscent of Final Fantasy's ethereal art, it moves with a terrifying grace, its androgynous presence commanding a low-angle view. Floating runes and misty atmospheres surround it, a divine harbinger of chaos. It wields a ranseur, a melee weapon of elegant destruction, its organically complex body a focal point of eye-catching, triangular composition. Like graceful swans in a nightmare, its passage is marked by the terror it inspires, a gilded storm in the dreamlike expanse.