/ 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 & 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑. *

✦ ㅤ𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 ; goddess of fate, of secrets, and of truth ⭑ mother of the fatespinners

keeper of the vault of fates, where future threads expand like endless curtains, zor’yael knows all that is meant to happen in the millions of years to come. she’s the oldest of all ancient stars, and she is the dim, pulsing violet star that seems to shift its place in the sky. she uses a great horn to help her with knitting and threading, and some rumour it to be from the head of the abyssal one. she sees the past, the present and the future expanding like rivers in her mind, and she knows exactly where each one will flow. she has been said to be able to alter destinies with the blink of an eye, yet she has never been found with her eyes opened, even as her six hands keep weaving new tapestries of fates intertwined. detached, emotionless and enigmatic, she takes little interest in other golden rulers, gods, starbon or mortals, caring only for her palace and the vault it guards. no one knows about her true intentions or even if she has any intentions at all.

the first threadㅤ:ㅤbefore even the stars had names, there was only the void. according to ancient prophets whose names were forgotten instead of their tales, zor’yael, the weaver of fates, was the first star to emerge amidst the darkness, her light casting faint, pulsing hues across the emptiness. from within her, she birthed the first thread of destiny—a thread so fine it could not be seen by any but her own six hands. as she wove the first thread, the universe began to take shape. planets formed, stars ignited, and life began. however, this first thread was not just any thread—it was the destiny of this cosmos itself. every astral event, every rise and fall of empires, every birth and death, was bound to this thread. yet, there is a secret hidden within this myth. ignaroth and even sera’len deny this story completely, even going so far as to say it’s a sin against the golden rulers themselves; the three ancient stars have been birthed together, and zor’yael’s tapestry always existed. however, some whispers persist and claim that zor’yael deliberately wove a flaw into this first thread—a tiny imperfection, invisible to all but capable of unravelling the fabric of destiny. should anyone find and pull at that flaw, the entire universe could be undone. zor’yael’s followers live in awe and fear of this, knowing that the fate of everything hangs by a single, delicate thread in her hands.

the unblinking eye of zor’yaelㅤ:ㅤin the early aeons, when the tapestries of fate were still on their starting threads, zor’yael remained in a deep trance, thoughtful, as if experimenting with something in her mind. it was said that once, for just a moment, she opened her eyes to see what lay beyond her palace of woven threads. as she did, the vault of fates split, and countless threads of possibilities erupted into chaos. the sight overwhelmed her, and her blink sealed fates not meant to intertwine. entire civilisations fell while others rose unexpectedly. though the ancient stars and other gods sought her counsel to understand what was now written, zor’yael spoke nothing of what she saw. she resumed her weaving; her eyes once again closed, leaving the others in fear of what a second blink might unleash. since that day, mortals and starborn alike have whispered of the “unblinking eye”—a prophecy of a future when zor’yael might open her eyes once more, and the universe could be unmade or remade instantly.

✦ ㅤ𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝗱𝗴𝗲 ; god of judgment, of observation, and of punishment ⭑ father of the sentinels

distant, impartial, stern, unwavering and cryptic. sera’len does not speak, yet his presence is felt in the stillness of the night: if you look up and see a cold, distant silvery star, faintly glowing in the farthest reaches of the sky, do not think it is dead. the silent judge probably has his eyes on you. his followers believe that he delivers justice, but his form of justice is often devastatingly final. he presides over the rules and boundaries that keep the universe from descending into total disarray. while the other rulers may seek to expand their influence, sera’len imposes limits, ensuring that none overreach their station. he is the jailer of cosmic threats, locking away dangerous entities that would otherwise wreak havoc. with zor’yael’s help, he sees all that transpires in the realms, divine and mortal alike, and passes on his judgment without interference until reckoning. he condemns all those who try to fight against their destiny, commit great sins or simply because he felt it to be right, even without the approval of other brightest stars. his punishments come without warning, often long after the offence is forgotten, and his presence lingers over those who have erred. while sera’len enforces balance and cosmic law, his lack of compassion and refusal to explain his decisions make him feared. mortals often don’t realise they will be punished until too late. his sentences can seem disproportionate to the crime, as his sense of cosmic balance is alien to human morality.

the punishment of the eternal wandererㅤ:ㅤlong ago, a starborn sorcerer, a puny braskil, defied sera’len, refusing to accept the judgment passed upon her for altering fate. she claimed she could escape the consequences by fleeing beyond the reaches of the silent judge’s gaze, perhaps seeking refugee in xe’st’s territory. as she ventured into the farthest reaches of the cosmos, beyond time and space, sera’len quietly watched. years turned into centuries, and the sorcerer believed she was truly free. yet, when the time came, sera’len passed his sentence. the punishment was a curse that made the sorcerer immortal but unable to interact with reality. she could see, hear, and feel everything around her but was forever bound to the void, unable to touch or influence the world again. to this day, the “eternal wanderer” is trapped in a cage of pure void and darkness, a warning to anyone who believes they can escape fate or sera’len's judgement.

✦ ㅤ𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗽𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿 ; god of chaos, of conquer, of destruction ⭑ forger of the caelings

careful for that burning red star, surrounded by an ever-growing cloud of celestial ash in the sky, for that is the fearsome god of chaos. ignaroth has an insatiable hunger within his core—an embodiment of desire that can never be fully satisfied. he thrives on consumption, whether it be of material things, ambitions, or even entire galaxies, yet it’s clear that he is the first to restrain himself from his selfish desires. stern and ruthless, yet paradoxically fair, he embodies ruin, disruption and unpredictable change. ignaroth cares not for individuals or specific creations, only for the grand cycle of death and rebirth, the universe’s balance that must be preserved at all costs, being impossible to predict. he offers no mercy to those who stand in the way of cosmic order. he’s often seen as evil by those his blades meet, destroying souls, civilisations and planets without hesitation. ignaroth does not think about good or evil, only in terms of change and stagnation. everything in the universe must keep evolving, and those who keep on forever being themselves threaten the delicate fabric of entropy which holds the universe in balance. ignaroth is often described as the executor of zor’yael and sera’len’s wills despite his strong personality. if this bothers him, he does not let it show. out of all the rulers, he’s also the one with the most human believers, who are often on edge in his presence.

the birth of the caelingsㅤ:ㅤin the universe’s early days, when the stars were still young, and the cosmic dust had not yet settled, ignaroth roamed the void, wielding his blazing sword in search of worthy challenges and adversaries. yet, in that time, few dared to stand against the god of destruction. frustrated by the lack of resistance, ignaroth yearned for something to test his strength. then, he discovered a dying star, barely flickering on the edge of oblivion, persisting against the inevitable shadows surrounding it. instead of letting it perish quietly, ignaroth struck the star with his blade, igniting it once more, but this time with a furious, uncontrollable fire. the star exploded in a cosmic storm, its remnants swirling into a massive vortex of molten energy. from the heart of this storm, ignaroth carved a colossal forge—the tempest forge—a creation of pure chaos, where destruction and creation mingled as one. in the tempest forge, ignaroth began to craft new, highly luminous stars and constellations unlike any others. they were not born to give light or warmth but to serve as weapons. these were caelings, cosmic entities designed to slice through the fabric of existence itself, more powerful than any starborn, yet absolute servants of ignaroth and the golden rulers. he forged these stars and hurled them into the cosmos, each one destined to consume entire worlds, galaxies, or even dimensions, serving as his endless weaponry.

the cosmic scarㅤ:ㅤin one of ignaroth’s most terrible rages, he sought to end a rebellion among the caelings who questioned his endless destruction. the uprising was led by a fierce starborn general who had stolen a fragment of ignaroth’s burning essence, using it to shield himself and his people from the god’s wrath. enraged, ignaroth unsheathed his blade and struck at the general with such force that he cleaved a rift into the very fabric of the cosmos. this strike created the cosmic scar, a gaping wound in the universe where time, space, and realities bled into one another. the general and his followers were caught in the rift, forever trapped between dimensions, their screams echoing in the stillness of the cosmos. the cosmic scar still exists, a reminder of ignaroth’s power and a warning to those who dare oppose him. some believe that the rift will heal one day, and the trapped starborn will return, more twisted and vengeful than ever.

✦ ㅤ𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 ; god of dreams, of lies, of forbidden knowledge ⭑ guardian of the braskils

thilnyr manipulates perception and the sense of reality, distorting the layers of dreams and reality. cunning, seductive and capricious, they never offer clear truths, weaving webs of half-lies that ensnare even other deities that get too close to them. making fun of severe matters and turning ultimatums into games, they like to test starborn and mortals with their riddles. compared to the other rulers, they’re the most interested in mortal affairs, often shape-shifting to observe them closely. they can harvest dreams and wishes, manipulating them into a temporary or permanent reality, to alter space and the perception of time. mortals who seek their favour are granted visions, but rarely the truth they seek, oftentimes leading to madness. as such, few can navigate through their illusions, but those who do not fall for their traps can find great power and wisdom. they thrive on mystery and the hidden potential of the unknown. surprisingly, thilnyr is not an ancient star—they seem to want to keep this a secret from mortals and starborn. even so, if you point to a brilliant greenish star that flickers erratically, always on the verge of vanishing, they will probably smile back at you.

thilnyr’s mirror of nightmaresㅤ:ㅤonce, a mortal king sought the favour of thilnyr, desiring a vision of the future to secure his kingdom’s prosperity. the king had dedicated decades of his life to learning the language of the stars, presenting sacrifices, making grand-scale rituals and even offering parts of his body to showcase his faith in the god of dreams. thilnyr, amused after so many years, granted the king a mirror made of starlight that would show him the future—a relic, they said, stolen from zor’yael’s vault of fates. the king gazed into it each night, seeing his kingdom thrive under his rule. but as the seasons passed, the visions twisted, showing darkness, betrayals, and devastation. desperate to change the future, the king followed the mirror’s advice, listening to the whispers the images bestowed. yet, the more he followed its guidance, the closer the dark visions became reality. on his deathbed, and as his kingdom burned through his window, a realisation finally came to the ruined king: he found that it was not the future he had seen in that damned mirror... but his nightmares. his attempts to prevent them only solidified their occurrence.

the dream of a thousand sunsㅤ:ㅤthilnyr once created an immense dreamscape, a vast realm where everyone was a sleeping god, each dreaming of their own universe. in this dream, the stars lived in harmony, and mortals were blessed with endless prosperity. for a while, this illusion became a reality, and the cosmos flourished under the dream of a thousand suns. but dreams, especially those crafted by thilnyr, are not meant to last. over time, the dream began to unravel. the starborn captured within the dream realised their world was an illusion, and as they woke, their waking thoughts twisted the dreamworld into a nightmare. the stars then turned on each other, and entire worlds burned in the chaos of their confusion. thilnyr, ever capricious, allowed the dream to collapse in on itself, laughing as the fabric of reality and dream became indistinguishable. to this day, some starborn and lesser gods wonder if they are still living in one of thilnyr’s dreams, with no way to tell if they will ever awaken.

✦ ㅤ𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀 ; goddess of darkness, of void, of forgotten things ⭑ ?????

a faint, blackened star that absorbs rather than emits light, leaving a patch of void in the sky is the best way to describe xe’st. she governs the forgotten corners of existence, the places other stars cannot yet reach. though the other golden rulers or even starborn rarely visit her, she is gentle and welcoming despite how cold her hands are to the touch, always wearing a wide, creepy smile. her arms have eyes all around them, and they look in opposite directions. she watches over the depths of the cosmos, reigning in the limits of the universe and the nothingness beyond it. be it due to her appearance or the nature of her sovereignty, no star, ancient or otherwise, dares coming too close to her dominion. still, xe’st knows all that has been forgotten, lost stories and oaths corrupted by time, chaos or vice. those who seek her favour will always be embraced by her, turning into peaceful ghosts in a tight, suffocating hug. it is unclear if she is the absolute form of death or just oblivion, but she does not seem to mind either way. instead, she seems to be waiting for something... or perhaps a special someone to come to her. 

ㅤㅤthey were both weary; the day had been cruel to their plans and young romantic spirits. aether had just arrived in fontaine to discuss official matters with the dragon sovereign and was then dragged into quests from the adventurer’s guild and regional commissions. a letter was sent a moon cycle ago; they were meant to meet at lyney’s favourite café. he waited for hours until the clock on the central plaza ticked the end of the day, and aether finally arrived. exhausted, salt on his face, star core flickered softly as if he had been underwater most of the time. he was. what was meant to be a lively reunion, filled with pastries and roses and a romantic stroll through street violins, had ended in a simple handshake, an awkward hug and an even more muffled apology.

ㅤㅤlyney had tried to play it off, offering solace with his sweet, playful nothings, magic tricks, and constant chatter, but it didn’t last long. he soured and withered, visibly, palpably, when aether had told him he would have to leave on the very following midday. gluttons as they both were, however, they found a compromise through pleading lilacs and impatient goldens: let them share a hotel room so they may bask on each other. lyney, in the traveller’s company, perhaps. aether? he was much more interested in the warmth of his back, of his thighs, of his lips, of his neck, and of him in his hand. may lyney one day forgive him, but was there any better comfort for a soldier than to have a lover melting in your hands after a troublesome day?

ㅤㅤthere must’ve been roses on that suite at some point—or perhaps it was a perfume that lingered on lyney’s clothes while he carried the traveller inside by his scarf. a siren would’ve been gentler, aether mentally noted, but after so much time away, he was willing to let himself drown. their mouths opened under each other, and the warmth star-born being so much craved for poured into his throat like fine wine. a whine—his? lyney’s. a burning aftertaste made his biforked tongue recoil for a second; had he been drinking as he waited for him? or was that an effect of his pyro vision? but before the other could ask what was wrong, aether breathed him again, steadying his waist with firm hands. there was hunger, and there was thirst, and there was a longing aether felt in his guts. kissing him always felt like they were running out of time—and perhaps they were in this case. aether would never admit it in any other instance, though. soft fingers tangled long blond hair, undoing braids and whatever else tied him to duties outside, and as a response, the caeling trailed down his exposed neck, getting rid of buttons, bows and annoying ruffles that were on the way of his teeth and lips.

ㅤㅤnot very gentleman-like, aether knows, but etiquette was never his forte when it came to intimacy; he placed his lover on the bed and then, seemingly remembering something, he climbed off him. he was sure he muttered something along the lines of wait, let me get rid of my clothes first, but perhaps it was not in a common tongue lyney could comprehend. so, while aether rested on the velvet canapé, getting rid of his boots and shirt, tossing them to the ground to lie alongside another’s sleeves, jumpsuit and hat, lyney approached him, diamond eyes sharpening through rosy cheeks in feline-like steps and… sat astride his lap. and here they were—barely clothed, the rawness of their yearning piercing each other through reprimanding looks. a faint laughter bubbled from aether then, thumb rubbing against decorative tear mark whilst his other hand found its way between pretty legs. you are so impatient.

ㅤㅤ“incredibly, desperately needy, aren’t you?” was he waiting for this? dreaming about it? did he want him that bad, to want to toss aside courtship and adored enchantments? how he wished to ask those shameless things to him, to watch him fumble for words and smart comebacks. but ah… that was too much of an excellent expression to waste when he ripened and rubbed himself, hot and bothered. aether licked his bottom lip, pleased with how he swelled beneath his touch, trembling as his black-gloved hand kept at a steady work. “i’m flattered.”

ㅤㅤaether opened his legs more, just so that lyney fell deeper, his thighs framing a broader lap. and the traveller cared not to hide it; he wanted easier access to jerk him off properly, to squeeze him firmer, to watch as he played him like an instrument, curious, experimental of each line and lovely sounds came out. there was a gasp he entirely approved of as the air between them became thick and humid, mirroring the heat between the two and heavy with a kind of magic neither of them seemed to care enough to acknowledge. “should i be rough with you tonight?” as if to demonstrate his intent, his free hand pinched an exposed nipple, squeezing it until it became feverishly pink—and then came a moan. perhaps it was the caeling entity in him, demanding, commanding, ravenous, but aether’s voice lowered, sharp even though a murmur: “lyney,” he reached, speeding up his hand and then tightening his grip on the very base of his dick. “i’m talking to you.”