Kadmilus (KAD-mee-lus)

In the eternal stillness of Tír na nÓg, where time flows like a river with no source or end, Kadmilus is a craftsman obsessed with measuring what cannot be measured. Small of stature but sturdy in frame, his hands are calloused from centuries of shaping delicate gears, etching impossibly fine numerals into polished metal, and refining the mechanisms of his greatest creation—a clock that tracks the ever-changing tides of the Mortal Realm. Though most in Tír na nÓg find timekeeping unnecessary, his invention remains a quiet marvel, its intricate face shifting with unseen movements, mapping days and hours where no such markers exist.   Though once a follower of the ancient Kabeiroi, the divine artisans of lost civilizations, Kadmilus shed his godly ties long ago, trading immortality’s vastness for something more personal—the pursuit of precision in an imprecise world. He is known for his steady patience and his wry amusement at the irony of his work; after all, what use is a clock in a realm untouched by time? And yet, he delights in the problem, refining the mechanisms, recalibrating for the distortions between realms, ensuring that if ever a traveler wishes to know the moment they left behind, they need only look to his clock’s shifting face.   Kadmilus is not a man of great words, but those who seek him out find a mind both sharp and curious, ever drawn to the paradox of Tír na nÓg’s endless present. His workshop, a quiet place of gears and metalwork, hums with the soft ticking of unfinished projects, each one an attempt to define the undefinable. It is said that even the gods come to him now and then, not for the telling of time, but for the comfort of knowing that even in a world without change, something still turns, measured, patient, and waiting.