Welcome to STARBORN

Long before the first sword was forged, before crowns, before war, there were only the stars. They say the world back then didn't rise through stone or steam but with silence. A kind of stillness that only the stars could teach.

People didn't build with tools. They understood, remembered the stars. And in remembering, their society rose. No one spoke to the stars, not really, however if you listened long enough, if your mind was still and your heart was open, Celestials might speak to you. Not with words, but instead with feelings, glimpses, and rhythm.

Some could hear them clearer than others. The Oracles were what they were called. Seers who stood in observatories where the sky felt close enough to breathe in. Listening to the hum beneath the stars, it was interpreted, lived by, yet never commanding.

Through them, people discovered within themselves a light that had no flame, a power that wasn't drawn, but awakened. It was named Aetherlight. The soul's answer to the constellations. A kind of magic, not the kind you hurl at foes. The kind that moves the world, should you let it. And with it, the world changed. Cities floated, rings of light let people step from one side of the world to the other. Guardians made of law and light watched over the skies. It was a stellar age, a quiet time.

Sadly, quiet never lasts forever...

There was a law, old as the stars themselves. That those who burn in the sky must watch but never rule. They were to be guides, not tyrants. That was the pact and the boundary. Not all stars were still. One among them, Phosphoros, the Hollow Maw, grew restless. Envious. Where others watched, he wanted to act. To rule. To tear the silence open and fill it with his voice.

He found a mortal, like you, and chose them. Marked them. Not with light, but with absence, dark sorcery born of broken stars and the forgotten, Void Woven Sorcery. And when he broke the pact, the sky cracked like glass. The world was his for the taking, and just like that, the first Starfall had begun.

Some stars fell to fight beside us like Scutum, Shield of Dawn, and Sol, Weaver of Light. Others followed Phosphoros into madness, such as Antares, Devourer of Flame, as well as those who wanted a world reborn from chaos. The war that came wasn't fought with swords. It was fought with will, with memory, and starfire. The sky bled, the seas boiled into glass, and forests of crystal sang and shattered. The war lasted a year.

Sol stood last, it was told. Wounded, fading, but believed in. The people still looked up at him. Still saw him. That was enough. That belief became a blade, and with it, Sol shattered Phosphoros into pieces scattered across the world. Traitorous stars were bound in celestial chains. The ones who fell were forgotten, and the rest went silent. The world was silent. No more floating cities. No more gates of light. No more Oracles. Just survivors. Children, the lost, and the unready. Sol chose one, just one. A spark to carry the story forward. We rebuilt. Not with magic, but with mud, metal, and myth. The stars that once guided us became omens. Things to fear. Aether was still inside us, yet no one knew how to find it anymore. The Veil? Just a story. And like all stories, it faded.

Now the stones whisper when no one is listening. Glyphs flicker on old walls. The Celestials are stirring. Not all at once. Just enough to remind us they're still there. Some seek champions. Some seek tools. Some seek voices. And some seek pawns. And deep beyond the Veil, in that place where light forgets its name. The Hollow Maw stirs once again.

The stars are watching, and whether by chance or destiny, the stars are watching you.