This was made with a local install of Reforge using the model 3WolfMond: https://huggingface.co/Xeno443 . I'd recommend any or all of the 'Mond models, they're all some of the best furry SDXL models.

I used Tail Tagger for tagging assistance: https://github.com/renfald/tail-tagger . Along with the JPT-3 model for AI generating tags: https://huggingface.co/RedRocket/JTP-3/tree/main/models?not-for-all-audiences=true

In the veiled expanse where the veil between worlds thinned to a gossamer whisper, there existed a realm known as Aetheria—a boundless sky-realm suspended between the mortal earth and the infinite cosmos. Here, the clouds were not mere vapors but living tapestries woven from dreams and forgotten memories, swirling in hues of indigo and lavender, pierced by the eternal pinpricks of stars that burned like distant hearthfires. The air hummed with an otherworldly symphony: the soft sigh of celestial winds, the distant rumble of thunder born from colliding nebulae, and the faint, ethereal howls that echoed from the void. It was a place where time folded upon itself, where nights stretched into eternities and dawns were but fleeting illusions painted across the horizon.

At the heart of this celestial domain stood Lyra, the Starborn Lupine, a being of profound duality and untamed grace. She was no ordinary creature; her form was a masterful fusion of wolf and woman, crafted by the ancient spirits of the wild and the luminous artisans of the stars. Her fur, a deep midnight black that shimmered like polished obsidian under the starlight, cloaked her lithe yet voluptuous frame. It cascaded in silken waves down her back, blending seamlessly with the long, raven tresses that framed her face—hair that seemed to absorb the darkness around her, only to reflect it back with subtle iridescent gleams. Her eyes were twin orbs of molten gold, glowing with an inner fire that spoke of ancient wisdom and unspoken hungers. They pierced the twilight like beacons, holding within them the reflections of galaxies long extinct and futures yet unborn.

Lyra's attire was a testament to her ethereal elegance: a sleek, form-fitting dress of ebony silk that hugged her curves with the intimacy of a lover's embrace. The fabric, woven from the threads of shadowed comets, gleamed with a latex-like sheen, catching the faint luminescence of the surrounding aura and casting subtle highlights across her ample bosom. There, upon her chest, bloomed a mesmerizing spectacle—a swirling nebula of colors trapped within her fur, as if she had captured a piece of the universe itself. Blues and purples intertwined with flecks of turquoise and magenta, forming starry patterns that pulsed gently with her breath, like a living galaxy nestled against her heart. This cosmic adornment was no mere decoration; it was the mark of her heritage, a conduit for the raw energies of creation and destruction that flowed through her veins.

Behind her loomed a colossal presence, her eternal companion and spectral guardian: the Phantom Wolf, whom she called Elowen. This apparition was a manifestation of pure spirit, a colossal wolf of translucent white fur that rippled like mist over a frozen lake. Elowen's form was immense, dwarfing Lyra in scale, with a muzzle that exhaled wisps of iridescent vapor—tendrils of light that danced and twisted like auroras born from her breath. Her eyes mirrored Lyra's, glowing with the same golden intensity, but magnified to the size of harvest moons, radiating an otherworldly power that could soothe or terrify. The spirit wolf's body faded into ethereal trails at the edges, blending with the swirling mists and starry backdrop, as if she were woven from the very fabric of the night sky. Flames of spectral blue and violet licked at her contours, not destructive fire but living essence, flickering with the rhythms of forgotten constellations.

Lyra's story began eons ago, in the cradle of a dying star. Born from the union of a mortal she-wolf who had wandered too far into the astral wilds and a celestial deity disguised as a wandering comet, she was destined to bridge the chasms between realms. As a pup, she roamed the earthly forests below Aetheria, her paws sinking into mossy earth under moonlit canopies, where the howls of her kin called to her primal soul. But the stars whispered secrets in her dreams, pulling her upward, until one fateful night, during a convergence of eclipses, she ascended. Her body transformed in the ascent: fur darkening to match the void, eyes igniting with stellar fire, and her spirit fracturing to birth Elowen—a fragment of her own essence, given form as a protector and mirror to her innermost self.

Now, in the present eternal moment, Lyra stood upon a precipice of condensed cloud, gazing out over the vast, undulating sea of vapors that stretched to infinity. The sky above was a velvet dome studded with jewels—stars that twinkled in rhythmic patterns, as if conversing in a language of light. Below, glimpses of the mortal world flickered like distant memories: emerald forests, sapphire oceans, and the flickering lights of human settlements, all blurred through the ethereal barrier. The air was cool and charged, carrying the scent of ozone and wild jasmine, mingled with the faint, metallic tang of cosmic dust. A gentle breeze stirred her hair and fur, causing the nebulae on her chest to shimmer more vividly, casting prismatic reflections onto the clouds at her feet.

Elowen hovered close, her massive head lowered protectively, her breath forming delicate filaments of light that coiled around Lyra like affectionate serpents. These tendrils were not idle; they pulsed with energy, feeding into Lyra's form, amplifying her senses. Through this bond, she could feel the heartbeat of the universe—the slow expansion of galaxies, the frantic dance of subatomic particles, the quiet despair of black holes devouring light. It was a symphony of existence that both empowered and burdened her, for Lyra was the Guardian of Thresholds, tasked with maintaining the delicate balance between the tangible and the transcendent.

But on this night—or was it an age?—a shadow stirred in the depths of Aetheria. Whispers from the void spoke of an encroaching void, a devouring entity born from the collapse of a rogue supernova. It hungered for the light of realms, seeking to unravel the threads that held Aetheria aloft. Lyra felt its approach as a chill in her bones, a dimming in the stars' glow. Her golden eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head back, letting out a low, resonant howl that reverberated through the clouds. Elowen joined her, their voices intertwining in a haunting duet: Lyra's melodic and fierce, Elowen's deep and resonant, like thunder rolling across the heavens.

As the howl faded, Lyra's mind delved into memories of past trials. She recalled the Great Rift, a cataclysm centuries ago when a meteor swarm threatened to shatter the barrier. She had stood then, much as now, her dress torn from the fray, her nebulae chest heaving with exertion. Elowen had manifested fully, her spectral form charging into the breach, her jaws snapping at the fiery intruders while Lyra wove spells of starlight to seal the wounds. The battle had lasted what felt like lifetimes, her fur singed by cosmic embers, her eyes burning with unyielding resolve. In victory, she had collapsed upon the clouds, Elowen's misty form enveloping her in a cocoon of healing light, mending her wounds with threads of pure ether.

Inspired by that triumph, Lyra prepared for the coming storm. She extended her arms, her claws—sharp and obsidian-black—gleaming as she channeled her power. The nebulae on her bosom flared brighter, drawing energy from the stars above. Swirls of color intensified: deep blues morphing into vibrant cyans, purples deepening to regal violets, all punctuated by sparkling whites like newborn stars. This surge coursed through her, heightening her senses; she could hear the entity's approach now—a slithering void-whisper, promising oblivion.

Elowen grew in stature, her form expanding until she towered like a mountain of mist and flame. The spectral flames along her flanks danced wildly, casting elongated shadows across the cloudy expanse. Together, they moved as one, Lyra leaping onto Elowen's back in a fluid motion, her dress fluttering like wings. They soared through the skies of Aetheria, navigating swirling vortices of cloud and bursts of stellar wind. The landscape shifted around them: pillars of cumulonimbus rising like ancient sentinels, rivers of aurora streaming overhead in ribbons of green and pink, and pockets of darkness where void-creatures lurked, their eyes glinting like malevolent stars.

As they neared the entity's lair—a yawning abyss at the edge of the realm—Lyra's heart pounded with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The void was a swirling maelstrom of nothingness, sucking in light and matter with insatiable greed. Tendrils of darkness lashed out, seeking to ensnare them. Elowen roared, her breath unleashing blasts of ethereal fire that scorched the shadows, illuminating hidden horrors: twisted forms of forgotten nightmares, writhing in agony.

Lyra dismounted, landing gracefully on a fragile outcrop of cloud. She faced the void, her golden eyes locking onto its core—a pulsating heart of absolute black. Drawing upon her dual nature, she began a ritual chant, her voice weaving incantations in the ancient tongue of the stars. Words like "Luminara vex" and "Shadow bind" echoed, causing the nebulae on her chest to project beams of light, piercing the darkness. Elowen circled protectively, her massive paws batting away encroaching tendrils, her jaws clamping down on ethereal limbs with bursts of spectral energy.

The battle raged fiercely. The entity countered with waves of despair, flooding Lyra's mind with visions of loss: the extinction of her earthly pack, the fading of stars she cherished. But she resisted, her bond with Elowen anchoring her. Together, they struck the final blow—Lyra channeling a surge of cosmic energy through her form, her body glowing as the galaxy within her expanded outward in a radiant explosion. Elowen amplified it, her form merging temporarily with Lyra's, creating a hybrid being of flesh and spirit, wolf and phantom.

The void shattered, dispersing into harmless wisps that evaporated under the starlight. Aetheria stabilized, the clouds settling into peaceful undulations, the stars shining brighter than before. Exhausted but victorious, Lyra collapsed against Elowen's side, the spirit wolf shrinking to nuzzle her gently. As the first hints of a ethereal dawn painted the horizon in soft pastels, Lyra gazed upward, her golden eyes reflecting the infinite. In this moment of respite, she knew her vigil was eternal, a dance of light and shadow, guardian and spirit forever entwined in the grand tapestry of the cosmos.

Yet, whispers lingered—hints of greater threats on the horizon, ancient prophecies of a convergence where all realms would collide. Lyra smiled faintly, her fur rippling in the breeze, ready for whatever wonders or perils the stars might decree. For she was the Starborn Lupine, embodiment of the wild and the wondrous, forever watching over the thresholds of existence.