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An asteroid hurtled towards Galbar at astonishing speeds, guided by an unseen hand towards the zodiac stones. Then, it woke up. She woke up. Ceres was.

The asteroid cracked in two, revealing her form, clad in earthen armor. Her skin was of the same ethereal, starry substance as her creator.

One of the asteroid shards was pulled back by the force of the stars, bound to it. She pulled it towards her, reforming into the war hammer, Libra.

The other shard glided towards the ocean, pulled by both the stars and by another unseen Galbaric force. It slid into the sea without splashing and began to grow. Massive fins escaped from the rocky shell. The large head of Xuanwu, the turtle that binds the celestial and telluric, emerged.

For countless years Ceres traveled completing her creator's pattern.

She captured an owl and caterpillar before encasing it in divine power, flying from the Zodiac Stones into the far reaches. Upon reaching the depths of the stars, she unleashed the owl, reborn as Cailleach. The great owl would absorb cosmic dust into her feathers, and then remold it into new lesser bodies such as meteors. She then freed the caterpillar, causing it to fragment into thousands of blue-winged butterflies. They would capture dust in their wings as well to bring to the great owl.

Returning to the zodiac stones, she created a guardian dog as tall as a human adult, Procyon, to protect the surrounding region. Those who touch his golden fur and embrace its divine power have their hope strengthened.

Finally, Ceres landed on the peninsula in the southwest of Toraan. It was the first time her feet had planted themselves on the ground. It was a new experience.

Pushing past that, she created the last of the zodiac animals. It was a simple animal, a newt. It had jet black skin with red and purple streaks. They could generate small bursts of heat or static, and they had very mild anti-mana properties.

Satisfied that her task was complete, and with no further instruction, she decided that she would remain in this region for at least a year or two.



Sirius reentered Antiquity. He had noticed the presence of many gods, and for the moment he didn’t want to involve himself with a crowd of gods. Glancing over the unfamiliar terrain, his sense fell over another portal which he quickly moved towards. He steeled himself, and passed through the portal. Immediately after entering the oceanic realm, he softly called out, his intention carried by divine will, “Hello… I am… Sirius. Is one of … kin of the lifeblood… present. There are matters … that should be discussed.”

The primal vastness that was Klaarungraxus ascended from the inky depths towards Sirius. Six huge, glowing eyes lowered their gazes to properly see the deity for themselves. The many-minds of Klaarungraxus pinged back curiosity; its form was small and soft, like the children of those mortal races made by the more gentler gods. Bipedal and at least visibly endoskeletal, as Gibbou and many of the gods the Old Growth Below had spied on in antiquity. A fascinating, if readily limiting structure.

”Tidings of currents soft and bountiful, Godling Sirius,” came the Great Devilfish’s reply, rumbling in Deepspeak that shuddered through Sirius’ mind, ”We are thee who is Klaarungraxus, distant kin so strangely made. What matters hath found wriggling purchase in thine mind’s matter that requires our attentions?”

Sirius responded, “Greetings … Klaarungraxus. There is the pressing … matter of our expulsion from Galbar. The pattern … it is incomplete.”

”Pattern? With finite measures only so many rotations can be formed to match one another; what pattern doth thine refer?” Klaarungraxus seemed to sink inwards then, leaning towards Sirius in the depths of his realm with considerable curiosity coursing through his tentacles.

“The Zodiac… The stars, they were without… order. I ensured that they would … be preserved. I finished most of the work. I just need to finalize it.. And make it accessible to the people of … Galbar.” Sirius replied, unnaturally still. The experience of being within this space was odd, and he considered if this is what Galbar’s ocean was like.

Klaar stared at Sirius as the adolescent looking deity with curiosity; his mindseye turned to those glimmering points above the waters, hanging in the sky alongside the One-Good-Orb during the darkest nights. They were admirable things, admittedly, but Klaar had seen little time to truly admire them.

”Zodiac? Stars? Hmmm. Preservation is unnecessary in all things, but needs of others always flow away from the needs of one. But . . . mortals will benefit, and thus, it must be made so; how might I assist?”

“Firstly, considering our … banishment. I need to … inquire about means to circumnavigate it. Secondly, considering … mortals, I have created … a small region to draw celestial … energies to Galbar. I now require a … method of … spreading it across Galbar and making it so … that mortals can more readily access it.” Sirius replied.

”Aaaah; it is solutions you seek. Worry not, four-limbed-kin, for I hath solutions to offer. With one tug I pulled forth mine limb and granted it a portion of my power. That small fraction of mineself traverses the realms far more freely than I; perhaps your limb separated could do the same? Or, something else, I imagine, would serve amply to thine goals.”

“I thank you … for your wisdom.” Sirius stated.

Sirius and Klaar had a long discussion about the nature of the zodiac and of deepspeak and telluric energies, and Sirius agreed to make a bridge between the zodiac stones and Ko, before formally dismissing him and returning to his realm


Sirius floated in the void of the Quasar. He had experienced the years pass by but did not understand the significance of its length. He had completed his great work. Resting in the first star, Sirius didn't resist the Lifeblood's pull, only using his divine power to bring the remnants of his home with him, infusing it into his new realm.

As he was alone within the Lifeblood's grasp, he continued to work on his great pattern and answered the prayers of the faithful.

When the portal formed, he quickly entered it before returning to his realm, noticing the presence of other gods. He was not immediately sure how to handle this new development, but he adapted quickly. He reshaped the portal and formed a door of solid asteroid to fit around it, but decided to leave it open for the time being.

He also called upon the image of a creature that he had seen on Galbar, leons, and created a giant version of one of them to oversee his realm in his absence, which he named Nemea.

Sirius did not mind being physically separate from Galbar, but there was still work that needed to be done. He readied himself and passed through the portal.



Sirius toiled to bring order back to the stars, ensuring that his celestial animals claimed the far reaches and preformed their divine tasks, restructuring stars to be more stable, along with countless other adjustments.

However, as he was taking a short break to consider what he has done, he noticed an asymmetry. While still apart of the larger whole, he had created a comet-infused reef, yet no such thing existed on Galbar for meteors or asteroids. It felt incomplete.

As he continued his work, he had formulated an idea. While guiding some of his animals into a new region, he had conjured maple seeds from Galbar and infused them meteorite ore, using his power to plant them on the island-continent, Mydia, and compelled them to grow into mighty trees. They, the red star maples, were rare, hardy trees that were resilient to heat. It would be difficult to conduit mana through their wood or sap. Its syrup had similar effects to caffeine.

For the western-most continent, Kubrajzar, he imbued a small amount of asteroid into select iron veins. The resulting metal, stellar-steel, which shared many of the same properties as asteroids but less severely: durable, dense, chemically unreactive, electrically unconducive, and mana conductive. It was difficult to work without magic but feasible.

Satisfied with the pattern becoming more complete, he refocused on the outer reaches.


Sirius, stirring in the first star, was lost in thought.

Over many iterations, many loose threads, and countless observations: a grand pattern was forming, of himself and the stars, intrinsically linked together. Hidden energies flowed in the outer reaches, ebbing and flowing. Competing values developed. Understanding the importance of names: it was named the Zodiac. It was incomplete.

Six energies and six values, they needed something to become twelve: symbols. Objects, locations, people, they were all viable options.

He slipped out of his thoughts for a moment and realized how barren space was. He had gone on tangents before about life among the stars and what his realm required, but they passed. He now knew what he needed for his symbology and home, animals. He immediately recognized that the celestial whales and sheep were a starting point, but that he would need to complete the pattern.

He shouldn't rush such things, but some matters need to intend to quickly. He quickly looked around Galbar for an ideal species before landing on the Wren. They were quick, diligent and observant birds. He reached up and pulled them into the sky, adapting them to the environment immediately. Even as a god, keeping a watchful eye over the entire night sky would be difficult. They would aid him in this endeavor. They would represent being observant.

Next, he required guardians. For something of this magnitude, he could not just grab something for Galbar. From the heart of a dying star, he forged majestic beasts resembling stouter white-furred deer, with ivory scales covering their faces and descending to their stomach. Glided starlight erupted from their hooves, and golden antlers adorned their heads. They had lustrous white manes and tails, and spiked ridges running down their back. They were the kirin, and they had represented the unbroken stars.

Finally, he drew upon the power of creation to summon a snake from Galbar and created Ophiuchus. A massive black serpent painted with stripes of blues, reds, purples, greens, and yellows. It slithered along with the hidden energies of the stars. It would observe what the wrens could not.

Finally, he wished to create a nexus for the celestial energies. Inscribing the pattern into Galbar, he conjured twelve pillars of stone to emerge from the grassland of his favored sheep, infusing them with the same celestial material as which made his form. He wove his virtues into the foundation of the site and bound the star-bound energies to the air of it. Engraved into the stones were intricate runes.

Glowing symbols appeared on five of them, in the central-most position in an otherwise untouched region. From the northmost stone going clockwise were stylized runes of a whale, sheep, wren, kirin, and snake. His new consecrated ground was the Zodiac Stones. Regardless of the time of day or cloud coverage, the stars would be visible here.

With this creation, he was tired but could not rest. He needed to ensure his pattern was perfect. It would be years before his animals proliferated through the stars. There was still much work to be done. A new power surged through him: the cosmos was his.



Nicolas rummaged around the grass. He knew that he needed to cross a large mass of water, though he wasn’t certain how. For the time being, he would concern himself with the basics. As he foraging, he came across a strange new bush he had never seen before. He cautiously inspected it. He had foggy memories of another person recklessly eating a strange berry and growing sick, he decided it that he would rather not.

Twigs snapped as someone approached from behind. “Go on, try it. It’s not deadly,” spoke a silky feminine voice.

The stargazer grabbed a rock that he had sharpened when he heard the twig snap. When he turned around, he lowered it to his side, “Who are you. You don’t look like the others.”

A tall white-haired woman with violet eyes and an impressive physique stared back at him, and furrowed her brow. “Strange. It doesn’t look like you’ve eaten the berry before, yet you’re capable of intelligent speech.” She took a few steps closer, seeming to inspect him more closely. “You have the touch of a divine on you… which one, though?”

“Divine.” he muttered to himself. He didn’t exactly know what he meant, but he responded the best that he could, “I am.” he struggled for a word for a moment until one came to him naturally, “Blessed by the stars and their keeper.” unconsciously gripping his rock harder as they approached.

“The stars?” she glanced upward at the night sky. “Hmm… interesting.” Then she glanced back down at him. “Put that rock down,” she said gently, “before you hurt yourself.”

“I would rather not. I know how to handle myself.” he said. “What do you want?” He paused for a brief second, “Who gave you the power of speech?”

“I did,” she smiled. Then she came even closer, before stepping past him and reaching down to pick a berry. She threw it up into the air, and caught it in her mouth, before swallowing it.

Nicolas stood silently before replying, “You are either lying, or are you.. Divine?” he said, not understanding what the term meant. It was more an accusation than a question. “Are you akin to the stars?”

She shook her head. “Akin to the stars? Not quite,” she said, before her voice suddenly became as deep as a man’s. “One moment.” Then, before Nicholas’s very eyes, her form was enveloped by a bright purple light, which quickly faded. In her place stood a man, with the same skin, height, hair, and eye colour. Even the same smirk.

“What?” he said, dropping his rock out of sheer shock. He didn’t even seem to notice. “How?”
“To answer your earlier question,” the man said, as if his transformation hadn’t happened. “Yes, I am Divine. As to what a Divine is, it’s an immensely powerful being capable of creating, destroying, and changing life with ease. The sort of being which might have blessed you, in fact. Though, given your confusion, maybe it was the Lifeblood - It’s never been that fond of explaining things.”

“Divine, lifeblood.” he muttered, “The keeper of the stars spoke to me. He told me to go.” he cut himself off. “Why are you here? Did you make those berries? Why?” he said defensively.

“Evandra made them,” he said in a slightly wistful tone. “That’s the Goddess of Fire, though I suppose you don’t know what fire is yet. Anyway, she made them, and I improved them. They’re meant to give the rest of your kind the ability to think, feel, and speak as we are doing now. Though it seems you already have that without them.” He shook his head slightly. “Anyway, where did this ‘keeper’ tell you to go?”

Nicolas looked around, only now noticing his rock on the ground. He took a deep breath and looked up towards the stars and pointed westward, “That direction, across a great body of water, to a land of rolling hills. It will be safe there.”

“You don’t feel safe here?” he asked curiously.

“There are many dangers here: hunger, snakes, others of my kin.” he said pointedly.

“And this ‘keeper’ told you there would be fewer dangers… wherever it is you’re going? Hmm…” he stroked his chin. “Well, good luck with that.”

“I saw it.” he said. He pointed to a now dark region of the sky, “His sign. That star grew bright before fading from the night sky.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged. “Do you want some help?”

“What help could you provide?” he said, suspiciously.

“Did I not just tell you what I’m capable of?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “If I wanted, I could snap my fingers and send you to your destination right now. I won’t, because that would be too easy, so it’s less a question of can and more a question of will.

“You have said many things. I only know that you can change your shape. But if I believed you, what might you do?”

“Well, since you seem so fearful of what nature has to offer…” he inclined his head toward the berry bush. “I suppose I could make you more resistant to poisons and other vile substances. I suspect your little quest will take you to a lot of lands with food you don’t know.”

“And why would you do that?” his tone softened slightly.

“Why have I been giving blessings to the rest of your kind? Why did that ‘keeper’ up there bless you?” the God countered. “I would do it because I feel like it. Because I see potential in your kind, and because you, irritating as you are, seem like someone worth helping.”

“Then do as you please.” he said, slowly reaching down to pick his rock back up.

The God shrugged, then reached down and touched Nicholas on the forehead. Power flowed into him, and surged down into his torso, lingering in his vital organs before dissipating. “There, that should do it,” he said. “I suppose you ought to be on your way. Don’t forget to try a berry, though.” He seized another berry for himself, then turned and walked away.

“Oh!” he said suddenly, stopping as if he forgot something. “My name is Cadien, by the way. Do let me know if your quest succeeds.” And without awaiting a response, he leapt off into the darkness.

“My name is Nicolas.” he muttered to himself. He glanced over to the berry brush for a moment, and walked in the opposite direction.








An early human, separated from his group, destined to die in obscurity. The others abandoned him. He was weak and useless. He would prove them otherwise, as he would survive.

He walked through the night. He could not stop moving, or death would find him. He stopped moving, tire and hunger began to overtake him. Then one of the lesser lights of the sky expanded and grew more brilliant. For him, it was a sign.

In truth, it was the death of the oldest star. Its instability finally caused it to crumble, and as it did material deep within its core ignited into a flash.

Had mortals not existed, the star would have also faded into obscurity. But at that moment, the star-loving sliver of the Lifeblood reacted. It had felt slight pulls and pushes before, but this granted it the final bit of strength to rush away towards the stars and infused it into the remains of the first star.

The being that resembled the starry sky looked down towards Galbar and heard his silent plead for aid. He immediately felt the need to resolve this situation. With a thought, he could be there. But he could not fully conceptualize why, but he didn't want to leave the stars, they granted him a sense of safety.

He was still not sure who he was other than he was obligated to help. He gently grabbed some of the remaining stardust which he materialized from and sent it to Galbar.

The early man felt something fall onto his head and infuse into his being. Words gently echoed in his mind, "You have called to the stars, and the stars have sent their aid. They will be your allies, and you will never be alone again. I only ask you that you share your blessings with others, Nicolas."

The newly named Nicolas looked back up at the stars with new understanding and found the strength to stand back up. His features softened and became lither. He had visions of a distant land and knew that the stars would reveal its location.

The newly formed god found something uncomfortable about his new form. In response to his will, a cloth appeared around him. Satisfied, he gave himself the name Sirius. Born of mortal thoughts, he knew that such things were important.


The lifeblood marched on, creating, creating, creating. It had inner turmoil, but still, it must create.

It rolled over a large landmass, still left barren. As it did, the terrain shifted into grassy hills roamed by animals. It willed it, and so it is.

However, something rung out, and the star-loving presence awoke within the blood. Its asteroid had not arrived, but it had realized it had other work it needed to achieve. It had found a reef, and realized that it wanted one as well. There was some strange affinity with this reef. It plucked a small piece of it and carried it to the northeast, above Toraan.

It planted it and willed it to grow. Except it did not. It died. The presence paused but was undeterred. It compelled comet dust to appear before and infused into the earth below it. Lacking an understanding of how it did so, it still did. From the infused ground, it weaved crystalline structures into a facsimile of a reef. It had also noticed clams and appreciated the jewels which they formed. He relocated the shelled creatures and altered them. He also attracted some of the nearby fish and further adapted them to the environment.

The presence was satisfied that it had created. But it peered back into the void of space. The water, land, and sky had life, but the stars did not. He noticed a creature, a whale. It was perfect. He compelled it to go to space, but this time it learned. As it began to leave the ocean, it changed. Its skin became a deep, night blue. Majestic fins grew from its back, flippers, and tail. Others followed, the first celestial whale would not be alone.

The presence wished to feel the stars with more life but found itself growing sleepier. It rushed over the newly formed grasslands. It remembered another animal it had an affinity for, the sheep. It asked a herd of sheep to come to and fill the stars, but it once again rested before its will could fully manifest.

The sheep wool grew thicker and became light shades of blue, yellow, red, and purple, with white swirling patterns. Their wool resisted Galbar's pull, but no matter how high they jumped, and they could jump high, they could not reach the stars. However, sheep are simple creatures. The celestial sheep continued to graze.



The stars, the failed creations of the lifeblood, lingered with the void. They reflected the sun's radiance to appear as myriad embers within the night sky. Haphazardously built, many began to crumble to dust. Large chunks of reflective debris remained as asteroids, meteors, and comets.

Comets are composed of crystalline material that is naturally an opaque white, but impurities can cause it to be shades of light blue, yellow, or pink. They slowly drink ambient energy, causing the air around them to chill. When struck by an object, they partially absorb the kinetic energy and would do the same for static or heat.

Opposed to comets, meteors amplifies energy and will cause the air around them to grow warmer. They are a black chrome metal with impurities that create streaks of reds and purples.

Other star-bound materials exist as parts of stars, space dust, or the space debris, but either did not or could not form free-floating chunks.

Most of the lifeblood was emotionless, only motivated by the ever-present need to move forward and create, but a sliver of it felt something different. The glow of the stars reflecting the sun, it created a small spark. The fragment reached out to grasp at the stars, pulling an asteroid towards Galbar. The fledgling presence then slumbered within the blood, unable to express itself further.

The asteroid diligently began to move Galbar-bound as compelled by the blood.



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