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pantheon of ASTRONIMA

One shapes, one clears.
One breathes life, one releases it
O' Twins of the Cycle, we honor you both,
For without endings, beginnings cannot bloom.
Glory to Ammar and Bela.-The Psalm of Renewal

Ammar, god of CREATION

“The universe is vast, but every creation—no matter how small—is significant.”

The Lightsmith

"Your fire does not burn, it kindles,
Your light does not blind, it guides.
Ammar, ignite our hearts with your passion,
Let us create in your name forever."- Ritual Prayer Typically Said Before Large Projects and Undertakings

Ammar, the God of Creation, is revered as the divine forger of light and life in Astronima’s pantheon. According to legend, Ammar stood alone in the void and kindled the first flame, bringing light to the dark and shaping the cosmos with his boundless creativity. Each of his creations is imbued with purpose and beauty, reflecting his vision of a harmonious universe.Ammar’s first and most ethereal creation, the Astral Plane, is a realm of starlight and celestial wisdom. Home to Astrela, it serves as a sanctuary for knowledge and arcane discovery, embodying Ammar’s love for enlightenment and exploration.Seeking balance, Ammar crafted the Median Plane, where Lunara resides. This realm reflects strength, discipline, and order, encapsulating the stability needed to sustain creation and protect what needs to grow.Ammar’s final masterpiece, the Material Plane, is a vibrant realm of life, growth, and beauty. Solara, with its radiant culture and golden seas, stands as a testament to his nurturing spirit and the flourishing of creation.Core Beliefs
Creation as Divine Act:
Every act of creation, whether a grand monument or a humble flower, is seen as a reflection of Ammar’s divine spark. To create is to honor him.Growth and Renewal:
Followers believe that growth, both personal and communal, is sacred. They view challenges as opportunities for development, embodying Ammar’s philosophy that nothing worth building comes without effort.Harmony in the Cycle:
The balance between Ammar and Bela is central to his faith. Destruction is not vilified but respected as a necessary counterpart to creation, clearing the way for new beginnings.Symbolism and Representation
Primary Symbols:
A golden sunburst intertwined with a blooming vine.
A spiral to represent infinite creation and renewal.
A hammer crossed with a quill, signifying craftsmanship and inspiration.Colors:
Gold, Emerald Green, Cerulean Blue and Deep PurpleOfferings:
Followers often leave crafted items, such as small sculptures or intricate weavings, at Ammar’s altars as symbols of their devotion and creativity. Some may even leave leaflets of poetry, sheet music or paintings.Followers are forbidden from leaving offerings of food and money, as those can be used to nurture those in need. As well as broken or dead items and implements of war.

Bela, Goddess of DESCTRUCTION

“Destruction is not cruelty—it is mercy for that which cannot endure.”

The Unmaker

“To the Flame that Cleanses,
I offer my pain, my grief, my despair.
Take them into your fire, O Bela,
And leave me with the strength to carry on.”
-Prayer to Bela in Times of Loss

Bela, born from the primordial void alongside her twin brother Ammar, emerged as the embodiment of endings and transformation. While Ammar kindled the first light and created the planes of existence, Bela embraced the shadow, finding purpose in the void’s stillness and clarity. Recognizing that creation without balance would lead to stagnation, Bela accepted the role of the Unmaker, tasked with bringing closure to cycles so that new beginnings could flourish.Bela’s first act of destruction was creating Oscura, a realm of shadow and resilience. She carved it from the void, crafting a place where that which is cast aside finds refuge. Oscura became a sanctuary for those untouched by light, thriving in the beauty of endings. Through her power, decay gives way to fertile ground, broken pieces become foundations, and what fades is never truly lost but transformed into something greater.Core Beliefs
Endings Are Sacred:
Every ending, whether of a life, a relationship, or a great empire, is seen as Bela’s touch. Her followers embrace these endings as opportunities for renewal.Transformation Through Destruction:
Destruction is not the end—it is the beginning of something greater. Bela’s power reshapes the world, removing the old to create space for the new.Embrace the Shadows:
Her followers believe that light cannot exist without shadow, and they often serve as a balance to the brighter teachings of Ammar. They view pain and loss as part of life’s necessary cycle.Symbolism and Representation of Bela:
Primary Symbols:
A link of broken chain, symbolizing liberation and the breaking of cycles that no longer serve.
An eclipsed moon, symbolizing moments of powerful transitions, aligning with her domain.
A broken spiral that still flows inward, symbolizing transformation through destruction.Colors: Deep Blacks, Ash White, Bronze, Crimson RedOfferings:
Followers often leave broken or withered items that no longer serve them. Like wilted flowers, broken pottery and tools, or the ashes from a hearth. Some may offer locks of their hair when seeking transformation and shedding of the old self.Followers are forbidden from offering any live plants or animals, useful items or anything the follower may still be emotionally attached to.

realms of ASTRONIMA

Four kingdoms, one cosmos—each a pillar of balance in the eternal cycle.

the kingdom of ASTRELA

Among the stars, Astrela illuminates the path of wisdom and arcane mastery.

The Starlit Dominion

“They say Astrela is a place of wonder, but I’ve heard it’s also a place of loneliness. Imagine standing under a sky that knows more than you ever will—wouldn’t that crush you?”-citizen of Lunara

Long before time was measured, when the universe was a canvas of endless darkness, Ammar stood alone in the void. He gazed into the empty expanse, his heart alight with a yearning to create something extraordinary—a place that would reflect the boundless possibilities of existence. He raised his hands, and from his fingertips, sparks flew, igniting the first stars. Their light shimmered and danced, casting away the shadows and weaving the fabric of the cosmos.From this celestial glow, Ammar formed Astrela, a kingdom suspended in the heavens. It was not built of stone or earth but of pure starlight, its foundations resting on the constellations themselves. The skies swirled with rivers of light, their currents flowing like streams of knowledge, carrying whispers of wisdom to all who dwelled within. Towers of shimmering crystal spiraled into the infinite expanse, their tips glowing with the light of distant galaxies. Astrela was a masterpiece, a realm where the mysteries of the universe could be explored and celebrated.Ammar, ever the artisan, shaped the first Astrelians from the light of the stars. Their hair shone white as moonbeams, and their eyes sparkled violet, filled with the curiosity of the cosmos. These beings were gifted with intellect and grace, tasked with preserving the knowledge of the universe and delving into the arcane secrets hidden within its fabric.To guide them, Ammar appointed a king, who he named Vesper Strell, a being as radiant as the kingdom itself. Vesper was a playful yet wise ruler, his heart mirroring the stars’ light. He was a seeker of knowledge, a keeper of balance, and a protector of the arcane. Under his leadership, the Astrelians flourished, their kingdom becoming a sanctuary for those who sought wisdom and the wonders of the universe.At the heart of Astrela, Ammar created the Celestial Archives, a sprawling library unlike any other. Its halls were endless, filled with tomes that glowed with starlight, containing the histories of worlds, the secrets of magic, and the blueprints of creation itself. Each book whispered its knowledge to those who opened it, and the shelves rearranged themselves to guide seekers to what they needed most.The archives were not merely a place of learning—they were alive, their very essence tied to the stars. They pulsed with the rhythm of the cosmos, their energy connecting the Astrelians to the greater universe. It was said that in the archives, one could hear the stars singing, their melodies revealing the truths of existence.Yet, for all its brilliance, Astrela was not immune to darkness. One fateful day, an Astrelian sage sought to unravel the mysteries of Bela’s power—the destructive force that balanced Ammar’s creation. His experiment disrupted the delicate balance of magic, creating a catastrophic rift that threatened to unmake a portion of the kingdom. King Vesper himself intervened, calling upon the power of Nebulox, the astral serpent and guardian of the stars, to seal the rift.Though the kingdom was saved, the incident left a scar on Astrela’s starlit fabric, a reminder that even light could falter if wielded recklessly. From that day, the Astrelians vowed to respect the balance between creation and destruction, recognizing that wisdom lay not only in seeking answers but in understanding their limits.Today, Astrela stands as a beacon in the cosmos, its light guiding seekers of knowledge from across the realms. Its people continue to study the stars, unearth the arcane, and preserve the stories of the universe. To outsiders, Astrela is a place of wonder and mystery, a kingdom where the heavens themselves seem to breathe.But those who dwell within know the truth: Astrela is not merely a kingdom of starlight; it is a promise. A promise that the light of wisdom will always endure, even in the darkest void. It is a realm where the pursuit of knowledge is sacred, and where every star tells a story waiting to be uncovered.And so, Astrela shines, its towers reaching toward eternity, a celestial masterpiece forever bound to the cycle of creation and the infinite mysteries of the universe.

the kingdom of LUNARA

Under the watchful moon, Lunara stands as a beacon of discipline and fortitude.

The Guardian of the Veil

"I’ve always wondered what it’s like for the children born there, growing up in the shadow of that discipline, never knowing anything beyond their perfect order. Do they play, laugh, dream like the rest of us? Or is every moment spent preparing for a life of duty and war?”-citizen of Solara

In the cosmos of Astronima, where light and shadow weave the eternal fabric of existence, Lunara was born from the hands of Ammar, the god of creation. Seeking to craft a realm of balance and discipline, Ammar forged Lunara on the Median Plane, a kingdom that would stand as the guardian of order between the ethereal heights of Astrela and the mortal vibrancy of Solara. Lunara’s foundations were set in gleaming marble, its architecture inspired by the classical elegance of the gods, its spires stretching toward the ever-present moon that graced its skies.
From its inception, Lunara was shaped to embody strength and stability. Ammar imbued the kingdom with a sense of purpose, crafting its people with glowing silver eyes to reflect their clarity of vision and their ability to see through the deceptions of the world. Their angelic white wings symbolized their connection to divine ideals, yet they were not mere symbols of grace. They were wings forged for battle, for Lunara’s role was not only to stand as a beacon of balance but also as its enforcer.From the beginning, Lunara faced challenges. As the Median Plane connected realms above and below, it became a battleground where forces of light and shadow clashed. Lunara’s people were often called to defend their lands from incursions by those who sought to upset the balance Ammar had envisioned. These battles forged the Lunarians into a people of resilience and unwavering resolve, their culture steeped in the belief that sacrifice was necessary to protect the harmony of the cosmos.The Lunarians are not merely warriors; they are the Moonlit Guardians, protectors of balance and enforcers of cosmic order. Their military is unmatched, their soldiers trained from a young age in both physical combat and the art of discipline. The kingdom’s elite warriors, the Silver Vanguard, are revered across the planes, their glowing silver eyes said to pierce through lies and their wings casting shadows of awe and fear.Despite their martial prowess, Lunarians are also philosophers and scholars. Their libraries hold tomes on the art of governance, strategies for preserving peace, and meditations on balance. They believe that strength without wisdom leads to tyranny, and thus, every soldier is also a student.As centuries passed, the pressures of maintaining perfection began to weigh heavily on Lunara’s people. Behind the walls, not all is as serene as it seems. The rigid expectations of discipline and duty leave little room for individuality, and those who falter often find themselves quietly exiled or re-educated. This creates an undercurrent of tension, as many question whether the cost of their perfection is too great.Lunara’s leadership, while revered, is also shrouded in mystery. The ruling monarch, Queen Melinoe, is known for her wisdom and strength, but her decisions often walk the fine line between justice and severity.In the present day, Lunara remains a symbol of strength and discipline. Its soldiers patrol the borders of the Median Plane, ensuring that no force disrupts the delicate equilibrium. Its people continue to uphold their values with pride, even as questions linger about what lies behind their perfect walls.To outsiders, Lunara is a kingdom of mystery and admiration, its gleaming spires and disciplined people embodying an ideal of order that few can match. Yet within its walls, the Lunarians grapple with the weight of their legacy, striving to remain the guardians of balance while seeking to understand the true meaning of harmony.

the kingdom of SOLARA

Where the sun kisses the sea, Solara thrives with life, prosperity and brilliance.

The Jewel of the Cosmos

"To me, Solara is like a storybook kingdom—beautiful, unreachable, and too perfect to be real. They say the people there shine like the sun, but I’ve also heard that not everything in Solara is as pure as it seems. Perfection has a way of demanding sacrifices."-citizen of Astrela

Long ago, when the cosmos was young, Ammar, the god of creation, stood upon the edge of the cerulean void. He gazed across the endless expanse of water and saw only potential—a canvas waiting for his hand. With the first light forged from his divine spark, Ammar reached down and touched the sea, his touch breathing life into the waves. From their depths rose Solara, a kingdom destined to shine as brightly as the sun.Its foundations were carved from the purest white marble, smoothed and polished by the kiss of celestial winds. Golden roofs crowned its towers, catching the light of Ammar’s eternal flame and casting it across the waves. As Solara grew, Ammar shaped its people with loving care. He gave them skin kissed by the warmth of the sun and eyes like liquid gold, so they would forever carry his light within them. To these children of creation, Ammar whispered: “You are the stewards of beauty, the keepers of life. May your creations be a reflection of my light.”Craftsmen carved intricate mosaics that glowed under the sun, telling the stories of creation and the bond between Ammar and his people. Every stone, every flower, every brushstroke in Solara was a hymn to the god who made them.Solara’s people were not warriors but creators—sculptors, poets, and architects who filled their land with beauty and wonder. Yet, they were not blind to the shadows that lingered on the edges of their radiant kingdom. They knew that beauty alone could not sustain them, and so they cultivated their land, working the fertile soil with care. The golden shores provided for their tables, and their fields blossomed under the watchful sun.Solara’s connection to the sea was sacred. The tides, they believed, carried Ammar’s breath, and their waters shimmered with his divine touch. Sailors whispered that when the sun sank below the horizon, its golden light would dance beneath the waves, a reminder that even in darkness, Ammar’s presence endured. The kingdom’s mariners became famed explorers, their ships venturing far beyond the known world, returning with treasures and tales to enrich the golden city.But it was the artistry of the Solarans that became their legacy. They built bridges that seemed to float on air and towers so tall they touched the clouds. Musicians composed melodies that captured the sun’s warmth, and painters brushed golden hues onto their canvases that glowed long after dusk. To live in Solara was to live surrounded by the divine essence of creation itself.Yet even as doubt flickered on the edges of Solara’s perfection, its people remained devoted to Ammar. Each dawn, they gathered at the temple of the Eternal Flame, where a sacred fire, kindled by Ammar’s own hand, burned without end. They prayed for inspiration, for the courage to create, and for the strength to carry their burdens of brilliance.Solara endures as a beacon of light in the cosmos, its golden spires and cerulean seas a testament to Ammar’s boundless creativity. But like the tides, its people know that the light must be balanced by the shadows they cannot ignore. Perhaps, one day, they will learn that true beauty lies not in perfection, but in the harmony of light and shadow. Until then, the golden kingdom basks in its radiance, ever reaching for the sun.

the land of OSCURA

In the shadows of the tundra, Oscura harbors resilience and quiet transformation.

The Realm of Ash and Frost

"Oscura is a kingdom no one speaks of unless they must. The exiles sent there never return, and the people who live there are said to be as cold as the land itself. Immune to the Plague, they say, because they were born without light. It makes you wonder—did the darkness shield them, or did it curse them first?"-citizen of Solara

In the farthest reaches of the world, where the sun’s rays dare not tread and frost clings to the earth like an unyielding guardian, lies Oscura, the kingdom of shadow. Its tundras stretch endlessly, blanketed in ash and snow, their desolation broken only by jagged mountains that rise like silent sentinels. The air is cold and still, carrying a silence that speaks of forgotten whispers and unseen truths.Oscura is not a land of despair but of resilience. Its people—Oscurans—have thrived for generations, forging a life in the shadows that would cripple others. They are born with milky, lightless eyes that reflect the nature of their homeland. To the world beyond, they are strange, even eerie, but in truth, their eyes hold a deep wisdom born of navigating the void. They are not blind; they see the world differently, in shades and contrasts, in whispers and silence.Long before the Plague of Null cast its shadow over the world, Oscura was already shrouded in mystery. It was a land apart, hidden by its harsh environment and its people’s secretive nature. Rarely did an Oscuran venture beyond their borders, and even rarer was the outsider who crossed into their land. Those who did speak of Oscura described it as a place where light and shadow entwined, where the people moved with a quiet grace, their voices low, their presence otherworldly.Legends say that Oscura was created by Bela, the goddess of destruction, as a sanctuary for those untouched by light. Bela carved it from the void itself, shaping a realm where endings were not feared but embraced as a natural part of life. The Oscurans became her stewards, caretakers of the cycle of decay and renewal. They learned to find beauty in the broken and strength in the dark, their lives a reflection of their goddess’s wisdom.The silence of Oscura’s isolation was broken one fateful day when a messenger arrived, their presence a shock to the Oscurans who had lived untouched by the outer kingdoms for centuries. The message bore the seals of three great monarchs: King Vesper of Astrela, Queen Melinoe of Lunara, and Empress Phoebe of Solara. Together, they requested an audience with the Oscuran council, their plea heavy with desperation.The Plague of Null was ravaging the kingdoms, leaving trails of hollowed-out victims in its wake. No cure had been found, and the afflicted were slowly being exiled, cast out to spare their lands further suffering. The monarchs had heard whispers of Oscura’s immunity and sought its aid, hoping that the shadowed kingdom could provide sanctuary for those whom light had forsaken.When the letter reached Oscura, it was brought before the Oscuran Council, a group of elder leaders who guided their secluded land. At its head stood Priest Orpheus Mentos, father of the future Priestess Moria Mentos, a man of quiet wisdom and unshakable faith. Orpheus was both revered and trusted, his voice carrying weight even among the strong-willed Oscurans.The council debated late into the night. Some argued that Oscura’s isolation had kept it safe for centuries and that opening its borders would bring ruin. Others, inspired by the teachings of their goddess Bela, saw an opportunity for transformation—a way to show that even in shadow, there could be compassion.Priest Orpheus listened to both sides before speaking, "If the gods gave us immunity, then perhaps it was not just for our survival but for theirs. Let us not hide from the light’s call, but instead use our shadow to shield those who have lost their own."With his words, the council reached a decision: Oscura would open its borders for the first time in generations.The first exiles arrived within weeks. They were hollowed by the plague, their once-bright eyes dimmed and their bodies frail. Oscurans, accustomed to the shadows, moved among them with quiet efficiency, offering care and solace. Though the plague could not touch the Oscurans, they still treated it with the respect one would give a dangerous predator, isolating the sick in sanctuaries built from dark stone and warmed with pale fire.The victims brought stories of the outer kingdoms—of golden spires, moonlit towers, and starlit archives. To the Oscurans, these tales were like distant dreams, remnants of a world they had long left behind. Yet they did not question or judge. Instead, they worked tirelessly, providing food, shelter, and what little comfort they could.The decision to take in the plague victims reshaped Oscura’s history. Though their land remained a place of shadows, it became a sanctuary for those cast out by the light. Priest Orpheus Mentos, hailed as a visionary, continued to guide his people with steady hands, ensuring that Oscura’s compassion did not waver.The outer kingdoms, too, changed. They began to see Oscura not as a distant, mysterious land but as a vital part of the cosmic balance. The pact forged in the face of despair became a symbol of unity, proof that even the darkest corners of the world could hold the brightest hope.

THE PLAGUE OF NULL

“I’ve heard it said that the Plague doesn’t just take from you—it whispers to you, promising peace as it drains away the light.”

The Lightbane

“They believe the plague is Bela’s doing because it’s easier to hate a goddess of endings than to question the light they’ve worshipped for so long.”-Priestess Moria Mentos

The Plague of Null is caused by an imbalance in the cosmic cycle between creation and destruction, specifically a disruption in the delicate balance maintained by Ammar and Bela. Though widely attributed to Bela by the superstitions of the outer kingdoms, the true cause lies deeper within the fabric of existence.---The True Cause of the Plague of NullImbalance in the Cycle:
The cycle of creation and destruction is fundamental to the stability of the cosmos. Ammar’s relentless creation, driven by the pursuit of beauty and order, inadvertently tipped the scales, resulting in an excess of light and vitality across the planes. This imbalance disrupted the natural order, creating a void—a hunger—that sought to reclaim the surplus energy.The Void Awakens:
The void, a primordial force tied to the absence of light and life, responded to this imbalance by manifesting as the Plague of Null. This force seeks to consume light and essence, restoring equilibrium by dismantling the excess that Ammar’s creations brought into existence.Bela’s Role:
Bela, the goddess of destruction, is not the direct cause of the plague, but her domain is intertwined with its nature. She represents the necessary endings that Ammar’s creation requires, and the plague serves as a grim reminder of what happens when destruction is resisted or ignored. Her association with shadow and transformation has led to the false belief that the plague is her punishment or curse.The Catalyst Event:
Many believe the plague’s emergence was triggered by a specific event, such as a reckless arcane experiment or the unchecked flourishing of creation in one of the outer kingdoms. This disruption created the conditions for the plague to spread, feeding on the surplus light and vitality.The Hunger of the Void:
The plague is not a sentient force but an extension of the void’s natural hunger. It acts as a predator, seeking out the brightest lights and strongest essences, leaving behind husks to balance the scales. This insatiable hunger is why even the most radiant kingdoms, like Solara, were not spared.---Why Oscurans Are ImmuneOscurans are immune to the Plague of Null because their nature is inherently aligned with shadow and the absence of light. The plague cannot consume what is already devoid of the vitality it seeks. Oscurans, being naturally tied to Bela’s domain, exist in harmony with the void, making them untouchable by its hunger.---The Hidden TruthWhile the outer kingdoms blame Bela, the gods themselves remain silent, understanding that the plague is neither a curse nor a punishment but a natural consequence of imbalance.The plague is a warning to all of Astronima: creation and destruction are not opposites but partners in the eternal cycle. Ignoring this truth invites the hunger of the void to fill the gap left behind.The Plague of Null, in its essence, is a cosmic correction—a shadow born of excess light, reminding the world that balance must always be maintained.

THE VEIL OF HUNGER

“When the Veil of Hunger descends, you don’t fight—you flee. Because what they hunger for is more than food or resources. They hunger for survival, and that is a hunger that knows no mercy.”

Kern's Wraiths

“Barloc Kern was a warrior with a heart as strong as his blade. He believed in Lunara’s values more deeply than anyone I’ve known. To see him now, leading the Veil of Hunger... it’s as though the plague hollowed out the man I knew and left only his shadow.”-Queen Melinoe

The Veil of Hunger emerged as a grim consequence of the Plague of Null, a disease that hollowed out its victims, draining their light and vitality. Many of those afflicted did not succumb fully but were left as shadows of their former selves, driven by a haunting emptiness. Among them was Barloc Kern, once a respected second-in-command to Queen Melinoe of Lunara. Kern, a man of strong principles and deep loyalty, was hollowed by the plague and exiled along with others who were deemed beyond saving.Rather than perish, Kern united the hollowed victims, channeling their shared suffering into a collective will to survive. Thus, the Veil of Hunger was born—not as a kingdom or community, but as a faction of survivors who turned their pain into a weapon. Over time, the Veil became a feared force, preying on settlements and travelers to sustain their gnawing, insatiable hunger for light and vitality.
---
Leadership
- Chief Barloc Kern:
Once a noble warrior of Lunara, Kern now leads the Veil with a blend of calculated strategy and raw desperation. Though hollowed, his mind remains sharp, and his leadership is driven by a tragic understanding of what has been lost.- Zephyr Thorne:
Kern’s second-in-command, a former mercenary in Solara infected by the plague. Reckless and ruthless, Zephyr embodies the Veil’s hunger and serves as a fierce enforcer of Kern’s will.Together, Kern and Zephyr maintain a fragile balance within the Veil, keeping its members united in their shared purpose.---Current SituationThe Veil of Hunger operates from the shadows, its movements unpredictable and its motives feared. They strike the borders of Astronima’s kingdoms, targeting isolated settlements and supply routes. While many view them as mindless marauders, their attacks are often deliberate and coordinated, suggesting a lingering intelligence behind their desperation.Their stronghold, hidden deep within Oscura’s tundras, serves as both a refuge and a staging ground. Though tensions exist between the Veil and Oscura’s native population, a tenuous peace is maintained, as Oscurans fear that driving the Veil away could provoke their wrath.The Veil’s actions have escalated, and their attacks grow bolder. Rumors suggest that Kern seeks a way to permanently restore the light they have lost, a goal that fuels their relentless pursuit of vitality and resources. The kingdoms of Solara, Lunara, and Astrela remain divided in their responses—some advocate eradication, while others argue for understanding and aid.---Tragic DualityThe Veil of Hunger is both a threat and a cautionary tale. They are victims of the Plague of Null, forced into a life of predation by a hunger they cannot control. At the same time, their actions make them a feared and hated presence in the world. Their existence raises painful questions about the balance of light and shadow, creation and destruction, and the price of survival.The Veil’s future remains uncertain, but one thing is clear: as long as the hunger persists, they will continue to cast their shadow across Astronima.

Moments In Time

THE FIRST EMPRESS

Featuring: Empress Pheobe Alaee, Prince Titus Alaee, Amaya Basu, Royal Advisor

The first girl born to the Alaee line entered the world under a fell astrological sign. In Astrela, this might have been seen as a dark omen, a forewarning of misfortune. Fortunately, Phoebe was born in Solara, a land that placed little stock in celestial alignments. The unease surrounding her birth, however, had little to do with the stars. It stemmed entirely from the tragic circumstances of her arrival. Her mother, the radiant Empress Aurelia, died during childbirth after hours of grueling labor, leaving Emperor Calyx Alaee with a devastating choice: save the child or the mother.If Calyx had known the child was a daughter, he would have chosen differently.The Emperor often thought about this in the years that followed. Aurelia might have borne him another son—a safeguard for the lineage, a contingency if anything befell their eldest, Titus Alaee. Solara’s traditions placed sons at the forefront, and daughters were an afterthought, relegated to roles of diplomacy or advantageous marriage. Though Calyx was not unkind to his only daughter, he was a man of his time and found himself utterly out of his depth in raising her. For much of her childhood, Phoebe was left to navigate a world that barely saw her place in it.The Helion Palace, where the Alaee family resided, was a monument to Solara’s grandeur. Its golden domes shimmered in the ever-present sunlight, and its alabaster walls reflected a brilliance that could be seen from miles away. Inside, gilded arches framed vast hallways adorned with intricate mosaics of Solara’s history. Every corner spoke of wealth and majesty, yet to Phoebe, it often felt cold, impersonal—despite its beauty, it never truly felt like home.In those early years, the only warmth Phoebe truly knew came from her closest friend, Amaya Basu. Amaya’s family quarters, tucked away in a quieter wing of the palace, felt worlds apart from the grandiose halls Phoebe roamed. Amaya’s mother, the court seer, and her father, an accomplished scholar and diplomat, had an effortless way of making Phoebe feel welcome. The rich, earthy tones of their tapestries, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air, and the golden light of temple lamps created a space that felt alive, intimate.“Come in, child,” Amaya’s mother would say, her voice as soothing as the soft glow of the room. “You’re always welcome here.”In those moments, Phoebe would sit cross-legged on the floor beside Amaya, her long, wavy raven-black hair spilling over her shoulders as she listened intently to Amaya’s father. His deep brown skin glowed in the lamplight as he spoke, his voice steady and measured. He would unravel the threads of politics, diplomacy, and the delicate alliances that held Solara together.It was here, in these informal lessons, that Phoebe began to understand the complexities of leadership.“You have a gift, child,” he said one evening, watching her deftly argue her way through a mock debate. Her golden eyes gleamed with determination as she dismantled his points with precision. “A rare mind for politics. You see what others overlook.”But when word of Phoebe’s skill reached Calyx, the Emperor merely waved it away. “Then her future husband will be a lucky man, indeed,” he remarked dismissively, his voice devoid of any real acknowledgment of her potential.Phoebe’s formal education was impeccable. She excelled in every subject—languages, history, philosophy. Yet, when it came to matters of governance, those lessons were reserved solely for her brother, Titus.Titus, with his short, raven-black hair always immaculately groomed, relished in the exclusivity of his position. His golden eyes, sharper than any blade, often sparkled with smug confidence when he reminded Phoebe of the unshakable order of things.
“Solara does not have Empresses,” he said one afternoon, his voice laced with condescension. “That’s simply the way of the world, dear sister. You should be grateful. Leave the burdens of the throne to me. It’s a man’s duty, after all.”Phoebe would grit her teeth and say nothing, though every fiber of her being burned with the words she dared not speak. Arguing with Titus, who already reveled in his role as heir to the Helion Throne, was pointless. He often boasted of the sweeping changes he would make once their father stepped aside.“Solara will be an empire worthy of its name,” Titus declared, his voice echoing through the golden council chamber. “Father’s rule is... adequate, but lacking vision. When I am Emperor, I will reshape this kingdom into something glorious.”While Titus basked in the adoration of sycophantic nobles, Phoebe continued to learn in the quiet shadow of Amaya’s family quarters. Amaya’s father, recognizing Phoebe’s potential, gave her every opportunity to sharpen her skills. In her heart, Phoebe knew the world did not have room for women like her—at least not yet. But she also knew that the world could be changed, and she would be ready if that moment ever came.The light of the sun is a powerful thing. While it brings growth and guidance, it can also burn. It can maim, and it can destroy. And as the years went on, that difference became all too apparent in the Alaee siblings. Titus’s grand ideals were bolstered by simpering noblemen who sought to secure his favor. Always nodding, always praising his vision, they filled his ears with flattery and his heart with arrogance.Titus’s rhetoric grew bolder with time, his ambitions taking on an edge of self-righteousness that made even the older advisors uneasy. He began to speak openly about Solara’s “destiny,” a kingdom that would not just radiate light but consume all shadow. His speeches in court grew longer, filled with promises of conquest and glory.One afternoon, standing before a gathered court of nobles in the sunlit council hall, Titus declared, “We are the light of this world. And the light has a duty to spread, to illuminate every dark corner. It is not expansion; it is salvation. Solara will bring order to the chaos.”Phoebe stood near the edge of the chamber, the golden mosaics on the floor reflecting the sunlight that streamed through the high arched windows. She watched as Titus basked in the applause of his supporters. The nobles leaned forward eagerly, hanging on his every word. But Phoebe noticed the flicker of unease in the eyes of the older advisors, those who had witnessed the cost of unchecked ambition. Her stomach twisted as Titus raised his arms in triumph, as if to embrace the room.“Father’s era was one of peace, yes,” he proclaimed, his golden eyes shining with fervor. “But peace breeds complacency. My era will be one of action, one of strength.”The chamber erupted in applause, but Phoebe’s hands remained at her sides, clenched into fists. She could feel the weight of his words pressing down like the sun itself—blinding, oppressive, and inescapable.
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Six years later, Phoebe, now 21, ran through the shadowed corridors of the Auroran Spire, her long, raven-black hair whipped behind her. The glow of the wall sconces, shaped like delicate sunbursts, cast flickering patterns of gold and shadow on the marble walls, illuminating the intricate carvings of Solara’s emblem: the sun. The air smelled faintly of heated stone and the sea breeze that had somehow found its way through the massive halls. Her mind was heavy with the events unfolding within the royal chambers.At the end of the corridor lay the heart of the Spire, her father’s private chambers. The gilded double doors stood slightly ajar, their golden reliefs depicting Ammar, the god of creation, with outstretched hands. The faint murmur of voices reached her ears as she approached, her heart pounding with dread.Inside, Emperor Calyx Alaee lay on his deathbed, a pale and broken version of the man she had always known. His once-broad shoulders, often clad in royal blue and gold, now sagged beneath a simple white shroud, and his face, deeply lined with age, was a ghostly pallor. The riding accident had left him frail and diminished, his breaths shallow and labored. The room, so often filled with his commanding presence, now felt hollow, the weight of death creeping in.The chamber itself was opulent, a space befitting the ruler of Solara. Massive windows stretched from floor to ceiling, framed by heavy golden drapes embroidered with radiant sunbursts. A breeze slipped through the open windows, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and jasmine from the gardens below. The light from an ornate chandelier caught the polished white-and-gold marble floors, making the room glow with a false warmth.Phoebe and Titus stood on either side of their father’s bed, their stark differences now more pronounced than ever. Titus, at 24, had the same wavy raven-black hair as Phoebe, though he kept his short and neatly combed. His broad frame was accentuated by a high-collared navy tunic trimmed with gold, and his golden eyes burned with anticipation, as if he could scarcely wait for their father’s final breath to claim what he believed was rightfully his. He looked every bit the future ruler—except for the tightness in his jaw and the simmering rage that Phoebe could feel emanating from him.Phoebe, by contrast, knelt by their father’s side in a simpler gown of white silk edged with gold, her hair cascading over her shoulders. Her golden eyes mirrored her father’s, though they lacked the hardened edge that Titus’s gaze held. Her hands trembled as she rested them on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to say or do.“Phoebe,” Calyx rasped, breaking the tense silence. His once-commanding voice was weak but still carried a note of authority. His eyes, though clouded with pain, found hers with startling clarity. “Come closer.”His trembling hand reached out, and she clasped it gently, feeling the frailty in his touch, the warmth fading from his once-strong grasp of a warrior. Titus shifted beside her, his impatience evident in the sharp way his fists clenched at his sides.“You have always seen what others could not,” Calyx said, his words slow but deliberate. “You see the cracks, the flaws, the truths that others ignore. That is what a ruler needs.” He paused, drawing in a shallow breath. “Not just strength, but wisdom. Compassion. Balance.”Phoebe’s heart stopped as his words sank in, but she didn’t dare speak. She glanced at Titus, whose expression darkened with every passing moment. His jaw tightened, and the vein in his temple pulsed with his barely-contained fury.“Father,” Phoebe began, her voice steady but cautious. “You cannot, I-...” Her hands trembled as she clutched his. “I don’t want to be the reason for Solara’s discord.”Calyx’s gaze softened, and he gave her a faint smile. “You won’t be the reason, Phoebe. You will be the solution. Solara needs you. I need you to trust me.”Titus took a sharp step forward, his golden eyes blazing. “What are you saying? That she—a woman—should take the throne? Father, this is madness! Tradition dictates—”“Traditions can be broken,” Calyx interrupted, his voice commanding despite his breathlessness. “The sun does not care for our traditions. It shines where it is needed most. And Solara needs her.”Phoebe closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself against the storm she could already feel brewing. “If this is your will, I will honor it,” she whispered, her voice laced with both resolve and reluctance.Calyx smiled faintly, but his expression grew heavy with regret. His trembling hand tightened slightly around hers. “I am sorry, Phoebe. For everything. For the burdens I placed on you... and the ones I denied you. I should have seen sooner what you were capable of.” His voice cracked, and he drew in a shallow, rattling breath. “Forgive…”Phoebe felt a lump rise in her throat, but she managed a faint smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “There is nothing to forgive, Father. I will make you proud.”Calyx gave a small nod, his face relaxing as he exhaled a final, shuddering breath. The room fell silent, save for the soft rustle of the golden curtains swaying gently in the breeze. Phoebe stayed kneeling by his side, her head bowed, as the enormity of the moment crushed down upon her.Her father, the revered Emperor Calyx Alaee, was gone.The man who had shaped so much of her world, however distant or flawed, was no longer there. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as her mind grappled with the realization. The sound of Titus shifting broke through her haze. She glanced up just in time to see her brother, his face a storm of barely-contained rage, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.His golden eyes burned with a fury she had never seen before, a mixture of betrayal and disbelief.“This is a mistake,” he spat, his voice low but venomous. He turned toward the door, his movements sharp and deliberate.Phoebe opened her mouth to say something, anything, to try and stop him, but the words caught in her throat. Titus stopped just short of the door, his body trembling with unspent anger. Without warning, he slammed his fist into the marble wall beside him. The sound echoed through the chamber, a deafening crack followed by the crumbling of stone. A jagged crater remained, dust falling from the impact as Titus stood there, his chest heaving. He turned back to her, his gaze searing as if he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him.The silence that followed was unbearable. Phoebe remained frozen, her eyes fixed on the dent in the wall, the perfect metaphor for what had just happened. The fracture wasn’t just in the stone—it was in her family, in everything that had once tethered them together. Her father, the tenuous link between herself and Titus, was gone. And whatever fragile thread of connection had existed between her and her brother had been severed beyond repair.Her hands shook as she reached up to brush tears from her face, but it was futile. The tears came harder, faster, until she was trembling with the force of her sobs. She cried for her father, for the weight he had placed on her shoulders with his dying breath. She cried for Titus, for the brother she had always hoped might one day see her as an equal, as family, instead of a threat. And she cried for herself, for the girl who had lost her mother, her father, and now, truly, her brother.The soft touch of Amaya’s hand on her shoulder broke through her grief. Phoebe turned to see her closest friend kneeling beside her, her expression filled with quiet sorrow and unwavering support. Phoebe blinked at her, her vision blurred by tears, and realized she had been kneeling there for what felt like hours. Her hands were still clutching her father’s lifeless one, and the weight of time pressed down on her.She looked past Amaya and saw a faint light creeping through the edges of the chamber’s heavy curtains. The deep, muted darkness of night was beginning to give way to the soft, golden hues of dawn. Phoebe’s breath hitched as she realized the sun was rising. She had been there, crying, clutching her father’s hand, for so long that night had passed into morning.“I didn’t even notice...” Phoebe whispered, her voice cracking. Amaya followed her gaze toward the sliver of sunlight now illuminating the chamber. Her hand tightened gently on Phoebe’s shoulder.“The sun rises, even when the world feels like it’s ending,” she said softly, a small smirk on her lips. “It’s what it does.”Phoebe’s tears welled again, but this time they fell silently as she nodded. The warmth of the sunrise against the marble walls felt alien in the wake of everything that had happened, a reminder of how the world moved forward, indifferent to the wreckage left behind. Her father was gone. Titus had walked away, leaving only his anger and destruction in his wake. Whatever family she once had, no matter how fractured, was now truly broken.Through the tears, she drew in a shaky breath, lifting her head to meet Amaya’s steady gaze.
“It feels... like it’s all gone,” Phoebe murmured. “Everything.”“Not everything,” Amaya said gently. “You’re still here. And I’m still here. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A FAILED ATTEMPT

Featuring: Empress Pheobe Alaee, Prince Titus Alaee, Amaya Basu, Royal Advisor

The light streamed through the stained glass windows of the grand coronation chamber, casting golden hues and shimmering rainbows across the marble floor. The chamber itself was a marvel of Solaran craftsmanship, its vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate murals depicting the kingdom's history. Golden filigree lined every pillar, reflecting the sunlight in dazzling patterns that seemed to dance across the pristine white marble. Rows of courtiers and nobles, dressed in resplendent silks and brocades of gold, white, and deep crimson, filled the room. Their faces gleamed with expectation, though Phoebe could sense the undercurrent of skepticism and intrigue among some of them.Phoebe stood at the center of it all, a solitary figure in the vast hall. Her raven-black hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid shadow, a stark contrast to the radiant golden embroidery of her ceremonial robes. Her eyes, a deep gold that mirrored the Solaran sun, scanned the crowd as she tried to steady her breath. The weight of their expectations pressed down like the crown that would soon rest upon her head.The ceremony had been a blur of ritual and solemnity, each step dictated by traditions older than she could fathom. The High Cleric of Ammar stood before her now, his silvered hair and richly embroidered blue-and-gold robes lending him an air of gravitas. His voice echoed through the chamber as he recited the ancient words, his golden eyes—so characteristic of all Solaran citizens—sharp and watchful.Phoebe only half-heard him, her mind spinning with thoughts of her father’s final moments, Titus’s rage, and the impossible weight of what was now hers to bear.
Her gaze drifted upward to the towering domed ceiling, where intricate murals depicted Solara’s history in radiant hues of gold, white, and azure. The sunburst emblem of her kingdom radiated from the very center, surrounded by scenes of heroes, battles, and the forging of the kingdom.It was a reminder of the light she was now tasked to embody. Yet all she could feel was the shadow of her family’s brokenness, lingering in the corners of her mind like a wound that refused to heal.“Princess Phoebe Alaee,” the High Cleric intoned, his deep voice pulling her attention back to the present. “Do you swear to uphold the light of Solara, to guide its people with wisdom, and to carry its legacy with honor?”Phoebe’s throat felt dry as she opened her mouth to speak. Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to stand tall. “I swear it.”The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the chamber was silent save for the soft hum of sunlight filtering through the glass. Then, with deliberate care, the High Cleric lifted the golden crown from its velvet cushion. The crown of Solara, an intricate circlet of gold inlaid with radiant citrine gemstones that glimmered like captured sunlight, seemed impossibly heavy as he raised it over her head.As the crown settled onto her brow, the room erupted into applause. The sound was deafening, a wave of approval that rolled over her like a tide. Phoebe wanted to feel reassured by it, to draw strength from their cheers, but all she felt was the cold weight of the crown and the hollow ache in her chest. She lifted her chin, determined not to let the swirling emotions show on her face. The eyes of Solara were on her now, and she could not falter.The High Cleric stepped aside, and Phoebe turned to face the assembled court. From her elevated position, she could see the rows of nobles standing in rigid formation, their faces a mixture of respect, calculation, and thinly veiled skepticism. Their jewels sparkled under the light, but it was their expressions that caught her attention—some wide-eyed with reverence, others guarded, their loyalty yet unproven.She searched the crowd instinctively for Amaya, and when their eyes met, her friend gave her a small, encouraging nod. Amaya stood out even among the court’s finery, her deep brown skin glowing in the sunlight and her dark, cascading hair adorned with delicate golden chains that shimmered with every movement.
It was a lifeline, a quiet reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in this.But Titus was nowhere to be seen. She had known he wouldn’t attend, yet the absence still cut deeply. Her brother, the one person who should have been beside her in support or even in defiance, had left her to carry this burden alone. She pictured him with his sharp golden eyes blazing with the same fury she had seen when he stormed from their father’s deathbed. The thought sent a pang of grief through her chest, but she pushed it aside, steeling herself for what was to come.The applause faded, replaced by the murmuring voices of the courtiers and the shifting movements of the crowd. Phoebe raised her hand, a small but commanding gesture that silenced the room. When she spoke, her voice carried, steady and clear despite the storm of emotions raging within her.“My father ruled this kingdom with wisdom and grace,” she began, her words measured. “He believed in the light of Solara, in its power to illuminate even the darkest corners of the world. It is my honor to continue his legacy, to guide Solara with the same unwavering resolve.”She paused, letting the words settle over the crowd. “But the light is not without its challenges. It must be tempered, balanced, and protected—not only from the shadows beyond but from the hubris that can blind us within. I stand before you today not as a perfect ruler but as a servant of this kingdom. Together, we will ensure that Solara’s light endures.”The room was silent for a heartbeat, and then the applause came again, loud and thunderous. Phoebe held herself still, her expression calm, but inside, her heart was racing. This was it. There was no turning back.As the ceremony concluded and the nobles began to disperse, Phoebe allowed herself a single moment to breathe. She stepped back from the dais, the crown feeling heavier with each step. Amaya was at her side almost immediately, her presence a quiet reassurance amidst the chaos.“You did well,” Amaya said softly, her voice low enough that only Phoebe could hear.
Phoebe managed a faint smile. “I hope so.”Amaya’s hand brushed against her arm briefly, a silent gesture of support. “You’re stronger than you think, Phoebe. They’ll see it soon enough.”Phoebe nodded, but as she looked out over the chamber, at the faces of those she now ruled, she couldn’t shake the weight of her father’s final words. Solara needs you. The truth of that need pressed down on her with every breath, and for a moment, she allowed herself to feel the depth of it before straightening her shoulders. Whatever came next, she would face it. She had no other choice.Six months later, Phoebe sat at her vanity, brushing her long, raven-black hair as the warm glow of the golden sconces bathed the room in soft light. Her reflection in the polished glass stared back at her, the weight of the crown and her responsibilities etched faintly in her golden eyes. Yet, for this moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to relish the silence.The sound of the door creaking open shattered the quiet. Phoebe’s hand stilled mid-stroke, the brush hovering in the air. She glanced at the mirror and saw him. Titus. He lingered in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow that stretched across the intricate mosaic floor. His raven-black hair, cut short and neat, gleamed under the chandelier’s light, but it was his eyes that froze her in place. Once warm and full of ambition, they now burned with an intensity she could only describe as hatred.“Titus,” Phoebe said softly, setting the brush down on the vanity. “What are you doing here?”Her voice was calm, measured, but inside, her chest tightened. She had allowed him to stay in the palace despite everything—despite his bitterness, his constant sneers, and his coldness toward her. It was a kindness she had extended out of hope that time might heal the rift between them. But the way he stared at her now, with venom twisting his expression, told her she had been wrong.“You’ve always been so generous, haven’t you?” he said, stepping further into the room. His tone dripped with mockery, and the door clicked shut behind him. “The benevolent little sister, granting me mercy after stealing everything from me.”Phoebe rose from her seat, her heart beginning to race. “I didn’t steal anything from you, Titus. The throne was Father’s decision. You know that.”“Father,” Titus spat, his lip curling. He took another step forward, his boots striking the floor with deliberate force. “The man who betrayed me. The man who chose you over tradition, over reason, over me. And now you sit there, wearing his crown, pretending to rule a kingdom you don’t deserve.”She straightened her posture, refusing to back down. “You think I wanted this?” she asked, her voice rising. “Do you think I asked to carry this weight? I never wanted to divide the court, to divide our family. But I accepted it because someone had to. And it certainly wasn’t going to be you, Titus, not with your arrogance and your delusions of grandeur.”Her words struck a nerve. Titus’s jaw clenched, and his hand moved to his side. That’s when she saw it—the glint of steel as he drew a knife from his belt. Her breath hitched, and a cold chill ran down her spine.“You’ve always been their favorite, haven’t you?” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “The golden girl, the perfect daughter. The miracle child who could do no wrong. But ruling a kingdom isn’t about being loved, Phoebe. It’s about being feared. And you, sister, don’t know the first thing about fear.”Phoebe’s eyes flicked to the knife, then back to his face. She forced herself to remain calm, though her hands trembled at her sides. “Fear doesn’t lead, Titus. It destroys. Just look at what it’s done to you.”For a moment, his expression faltered, a flicker of something familiar crossing his face—hurt, hesitation. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold fury that made her blood run cold. “You think you understand me?” he hissed, his grip tightening on the blade. “You’ve never understood me, Phoebe. You’ve never understood what it takes to lead.”Before she could respond, he lunged. The world seemed to slow as he moved, his blade flashing toward her with lethal intent. Phoebe barely had time to twist away, the edge of the knife slicing through the fabric of her sleeve and grazing her arm. Pain bloomed sharp and hot, but she didn’t let it stop her. She stumbled back, grabbing the heavy candlestick from her vanity as he advanced again.“Titus, stop!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation as she raised the makeshift weapon.
He struck again, the knife clashing against the golden candlestick with a jarring clang. The force of it sent vibrations up her arm, but she held firm, her heart pounding in her chest.“Do you feel it now?” he demanded, his voice a guttural growl. “Do you understand fear, sister? Do you understand what it means to fight for something?”“This isn’t fighting for something!” she shot back, her voice trembling but defiant. “This is you trying to tear it all down because you can’t stand that it isn’t yours.”He snarled, his strikes growing more erratic. She dodged as best she could, but her strength was waning, her movements slower with each clash. Just as she stumbled, Titus's blade found its mark, striking deep into her side.
The pain was immediate and searing, radiating through her body as she cried out in shock. Blood blossomed beneath her hand as she instinctively clutched the wound, her vision swimming with tears. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed against the vanity, gasping for breath, her heart pounding with panic and disbelief. As darkness began to encroach on the edges of her vision, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding.“Enough!”Amaya. Her friend’s voice was like a lifeline, cutting through the chaos. Phoebe turned her head just in time to see Amaya bursting into the room, her dark hair flying behind her as she wielded a blade of her own. Her caramel-brown skin seemed to glow in the dim light, her golden eyes blazing with fury.
Amaya’s arrival was a storm. She collided with Titus before he could react, her blade meeting his with a clash that echoed through the chamber.
Phoebe stumbled back, clutching her side with the hand of her wounded arm as she watched her friend fight with a precision and ferocity that left Titus struggling to keep up. Within moments, Amaya disarmed him, her blade pressed against his throat as she forced him against the wall.“You don’t get to decide her fate,” Amaya hissed, her voice trembling with controlled rage. “Not today. Not ever.”Titus’s golden eyes burned with hatred as he glared at her, but he didn’t move. Amaya didn’t lower her blade until the guards arrived, summoned by the noise. They surrounded Titus, shackling his hands as he snarled and cursed.
When they dragged him away, he turned his gaze to Phoebe one last time, his expression twisted with fury and betrayal.“This isn’t over, you traitorous bitch!” he spat. “You don’t deserve Solara! And one day, they’ll see it! Your head will be in a fucking basket!”Phoebe watched him go, her body trembling as tears blurred her vision. The ache in her chest was unbearable, a pain far deeper than the wound on her arm. Amaya knelt beside her, her hands gentle as she inspected the injury.“Phoebe,” she said softly, her voice thick with worry. “Are you all right?”Phoebe shook her head, her tears falling freely now. “No,” she whispered. “He was...How...?”Amaya wrapped an arm around her, her presence grounding as she laid Pheobe onto the plush rug. “I don’t know,” she said. “But you’re still here. And you will wait for me to fetch a healer, don't close your eyes.”Phoebe laid on that rug, watching her friend take off screaming down the corridor for a medic. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on her, suffocating and relentless. When she woke days later in the hospital wing, she would learn of Titus’s imprisonment and the whispers of treason that now filled the court. But in that moment, all she could feel was the unbearable silence that followed.

AN EMPRESS IN HER STUDY

Featuring: Empress Pheobe Alaee, Prince Titus Alaee, Amaya Basu, Royal Advisor

Six months later, Phoebe sat at her desk in the grand solar of the Auroran Spire, the light of the midday sun streaming through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished marble floor. The air smelled faintly of parchment and jasmine, the latter from a small vase of flowers Amaya had insisted on placing there to brighten the room. She stared at the stack of documents before her, yet her mind wandered to the weight of whispers that followed her wherever she went.To the people of Solara, she was an enigma. Her reign had begun not in triumph, but in blood and betrayal. The night Titus had turned on her had become the subject of rumors and half-truths, none of which painted a full picture of what had truly occurred. Some believed she had framed him, manipulating events to solidify her claim to the throne for herself, one she never wanted in the first place. Others whispered that Titus had been the rightful heir, and that her father’s choice had been made under duress or a lapse in judgment. Few knew the truth—that she had nearly died at her brother’s hand, and that she had allowed him to remain in the palace out of love and hope, only for him to betray her.Phoebe leaned back in her chair, absently tracing the scar on her side through the fabric of her gown. It was a thin, jagged line now, but she remembered the searing pain of that night as if it had happened yesterday. Titus’s words still echoed in her mind, venomous and raw: You don’t deserve Solara. And one day, they’ll see it.The betrayal had shattered what little remained of her family, and yet the court had twisted it into something else entirely. She had become the Empress who imprisoned her own brother, the one who turned against blood for power. It didn’t matter that she had no choice. It didn’t matter that Titus would have burned Solara to the ground to remake it in his own image. To many, she was the villain in a story of her brother’s tragic fall.“Phoebe?”Amaya’s voice drew her from her thoughts. Phoebe glanced up to see her closest friend entering the room, a small bundle of scrolls in her arms. Amaya’s dark hair was swept back in elegant braids, her golden eyes sharp yet kind as they took in Phoebe’s distant expression.“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Amaya asked, setting the scrolls down on the desk. She crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the desk as she gave Phoebe a pointed look.“Can you blame me?” Phoebe replied, her tone heavy with exhaustion. “Everywhere I go, I hear the whispers. I see the doubt in their eyes. They don’t know what really happened that night. And they don’t want to know. They’ve already decided who I am.”Amaya’s expression softened, and she reached out to place a hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “Let them whisper. They’ll see the truth in time. You’re doing what needs to be done for Solara. That’s what matters.”“Is it?” Phoebe asked quietly, her gaze dropping to the scrolls before her. “The council follows me because they must, but their loyalty is brittle at best. The nobles tolerate me, but they still see me as an interloper. And the people…” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “The people think I’m a thief who stole my brother’s throne. They think I betrayed him, not the other way around.”“You can’t change their minds overnight,” Amaya said gently. “But you can lead by example. Show them what kind of ruler you are, not through words, but through actions. They’ll come to see that you are exactly what Solara needs.”Phoebe looked up at her friend, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”Amaya shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “It’s part of the job of a royal advisor. Someone has to remind you how remarkable you are.”Phoebe’s smile lingered for a moment longer before fading. She stood, moving to the tall windows that overlooked the city of Heliopolis. The sprawling streets of white marble and gold rooftops gleamed under the sun’s light, a testament to Solara’s beauty and resilience. And yet, from her vantage point, she could see the cracks—the widening gap between the wealth of the inner city and the struggles of the outer districts. These were the things Titus had ignored in his grand vision of conquest. These were the things she couldn’t afford to.“I’ll prove it to them,” Phoebe said, more to herself than to Amaya. Her reflection in the glass stared back at her, the crown she wore almost too bright in the sunlight. “Not for the nobles. Not for the council. For them.” She gestured to the city below. “For the people who deserve a ruler who sees them, who fights for them.”Amaya stepped beside her, her gaze following Phoebe’s to the city. “And you will,” she said firmly. “But don’t forget to let yourself rest, Phoebe. Even the sun needs to set.”Phoebe nodded, her resolve hardening. The whispers would continue, the misconceptions would persist, but she would not be defined by them. She had survived her brother’s blade, her father’s expectations, and the court’s scrutiny. She would survive this, too.Because Solara needed her. And she would not fail it.

CREATURES OF ASTRONI,A

"The creatures of Astronima are as varied as the stars above—some born of light, others molded in shadow, yet all bearing the essence of creation and destruction that shaped the realms they roam."