✩ Lᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ Asᴛʀᴏᴘʜᴇʟ [cd 100]

[Stormwarden]

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Asᴛʀᴏᴘʜᴇʟ / ᴍᴀʟᴇ, ᴘᴀɴsᴇxᴜᴀʟ

⟶ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ: ғɪʀsᴛ ᴜsᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ 16ᴛʜ-ᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀʏ ᴘᴏᴇᴛ Sɪʀ Pʜɪʟɪᴘ Sɪᴅɴᴇʏ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ sᴏɴɴᴇᴛs Asᴛʀᴏᴘʜɪʟ ᴀɴᴅ Sᴛᴇʟʟᴀ

[Stormwarden]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Mortals knew of Ophiuchus, the so-called thirteenth sign of the zodiac, but no one ever spoke of Astrophel.

"Star lover," his name meant. And love them all he did.

Astrophel was one of few Celestial Dragons who truly embraced his namesake and birthright: he spent every waking moment traversing throughout the heavens, seeking color where there was naught, purpose where there was none.

[Stormwarden]

❝ I sᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ғɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴇsᴛ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴡᴏᴇ ❞ (1.5)

For a single dragon, it was beyond ambitious.

An answer he sought — what is the purpose to the existence of the universe? — in the depths of space, but none came to him.

To live without purpose is to live in vain, but, inspired by the gods and their Fates, Astrophel learned to unite and create. He used his third eye to observe the compatibility between mortals, and, with his tail, drew a path somewhen in their lifetimes that would guide them together.

His version of a red string of fate seemed to satisfy his desire for a deeper sense of significance, but it was ephemeral.

Once more, Astrophel was drawn to the empyreal —

To the stars.

[Stormwarden]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰


❝ Bɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴛʀᴜᴀɴᴛ ᴘᴇɴ, ʙᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ғᴏʀ sᴘɪᴛᴇ,
'Fᴏᴏʟ' sᴀɪᴅ ᴍʏ Mᴜsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, 'ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ.' ❞ (1.13–14)

[Stormwarden]

❝ Oɴ Cᴜᴘɪᴅ's ʙᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛsᴛʀɪɴɢs ʙᴇɴᴛ ❞ (19.1)

The pitiful heavens, how the hewn stars were scattered about! Space was the epitome of entropy, of deviance and disorder.

His stars were lost, misguided — it pained him to see them like this.

Astrophel was idly drawing the paths that guided mortals together, sitting just beyond their realm of vision, when a realization dawned on him, simultaneously as slow as yet sudden as the sunrise: if he could do this for celestial dragons, what kept him from doing it for the celestials themselves?

Spurred by his epiphany, he took to the skies to try his hand, to test his luck.

Among the stars, he never felt alone.

"Astrophel!" the stars seemed to cry as he cast the mystical sight of his third eye outward. He felt their inquisitiveness prick at his skin, and his fur stood on end as they all turned gazes to watch him.

"Silence," he commanded gently. Astrophel knew in his heart that all the stars in the universe would still in the orbits for him, but all he could ever dare ask for was a bit of quiet.

Astrophel needed to focus. He'd done this countless times for mortals, but he never loved any as much as he loved his stars. His tail was his pen, his third eye a ruler, the adjacent stars his guiding lights, and he the artist.

He was a painter, a poet, but this was the work of a god.

And thus, Astrophel became the creator of constellations, the great connector.

[Stormwarden]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰


❝ Wɪᴛʜ ʜᴏᴡ sᴀᴅ sᴛᴇᴘs, ᴏʜ Mᴏᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴄʟɪᴍʙ’sᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴋɪᴇs,
Hᴏᴡ sɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴀɴ ᴀ ғᴀᴄᴇ. ❞ (31.1–2)

[Stormwarden]

❝ Uɴsᴇᴇɴ, ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʀᴅ, ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʙᴇɴᴅs ᴀʟʟ ɪᴛs ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs ❞ (27.27)

When he finished, Astrophel was bathed in a glittering white light. The heavens were weeping for him, in both gratitude and fear of the divine wrath the gods would inflict upon him for his act of ascension.

In the following nights, the sky seemed as if it was holding its breath in trepidation. It remained clear, however, as clear as cats-vision, and the mortals below celebrated the sudden epiphanies of order in the universe: the birth of constellations.

They provided direction, these lines that were drawn between and among the stars — invisible to the eye, yet it in one's mind it felt as though they'd always been there.

Astrophel was gratified by the reception: feasts were held, parties were thrown, and songs were sung praising the miracle in the sky. But they were singing to a nameless god, for Astrophel has left no trace of himself in his work. No signature and no credit.

In his mind, Astrophel had only connected the stars to help guide the growing universe as well as the burgeoning existence of mortals and their search for knowledge and understanding; he sought no glory for himself.

Astrophel was an anonymous poet and painter, writing sprawling verses and drawing scintillating pictures across the sky.

[Stormwarden]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰


❝ Sᴛᴇʟʟᴀ, ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʙʏ ᴠᴇʀsᴇ sᴇᴇᴋ ғᴀᴍᴇ,
Wʜᴏ sᴇᴇᴋ, ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ, ᴡʜᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴡʜᴏ ʟɪᴠᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴇ;
Tʜɪɴᴇ ᴇʏᴇs ᴍʏ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ, ᴛʜʏ ʟɪᴘs ᴍʏ ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ:
Iғ ᴛʜᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴀɪsᴇ ɪs sʜᴀᴍᴇ. ❞ (90.1–4)

[Stormwarden]

❝ I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ I, ᴘɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ. ❞ (45.14)

But even ethereal celestial dragons were not gods.

For all his extraordinary accomplishments, Astrophel's downfall was nothing short of mundane. He'd awoken one morning with the intent to perform light touch-ups on the lines of his constellations, to smooth their curves and sharpen their edges.

And when he opened his eyes, Astrophel was blind.

In actuality, Astrophel could see perfectly fine with his two front eyes, but his third one, the eye that held the power to make his constellations tangible, the most important eye and the only one he cared about, was dark.

The gods had exacted their punishment. Astrophel's hamartia was hubris, and not only did they take the light in his third eye, the gods condemned Astrophel to exile.

He was never to return to the mortal world. The celestial dragons would be forced to find their mates without his help or guidance.

Furthermore, the gods allowed his constellations to remain, but he was Fated to never join them.

Exiled in space but no longer able to see his creations, Astrophel used his paws and wings trace them all, again and again and again, every waking moment, lest he ever forgot and lost his way in the vastness of space.

Star-lover, the creator of constellations, and the great connector turned vagabond, a blind wanderer.

No one ever spoke of Astrophel.

[Stormwarden]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰


❝ Sᴏ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʟʏ (ᴀʟᴀs) ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴍᴇ,
Tʜᴀᴛ, ɪɴ ᴍʏ sᴀᴅɴᴇss ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴊᴏʏ,
Aɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴊᴏʏs ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ sᴜғғᴇʀɪɴɢ. ❞ (108.26–28)

ғɪɴ.