Prologue
In the beginning, there was only the Great Dark, a hollow void that threatened to swallow the soul of reality. From this void, twelve lights came to be—the Sovereigns of the Firmament.
From the heavens, Solan brought the first dawn, while Lunara carved the tides with silver light. Astron mapped the void with pulsing flames, and Zephyris gave them everlasting breath. For aeons, the Twelve stood as an unbreakable wall against the encroaching shadows. They were the architects and artists of the void—the pillars that hold up the sky—the masters of the elements—and the eternal protectors of the universe.
Our history books teach us that their power is absolute. We sing hymns to their names, believing that as long as the Twelve remain, the world shall never fall to the night.
But, history is often a story of what we want to believe, and even the brightest Solan and the graceful Lunara cast a shadow they cannot hide.
Somewhere along our history and hidden in the spaces between the Song of the Twelve, a woeful melody silently sings:
Break the sky and bleed the light,
Oh dear Mother, crack the veil of the hollow night,
Bind the dark and pay the cost,
When all is found, you are lost.
- Golden_Pen31
