Caelbrith

• Primary Domains: Endings, absence, silence, severance. Caelbrith rules the final breath, the quiet after destruction, the void where memory falters. His silence is not concealment, but totality: what he takes cannot return.

• Secondary Connections: Forgetting, severed oaths, extinction, finality of judgment. His hand is felt when lineages end, when entire tongues fall silent, when once-sacred bonds are broken beyond mending.

• Tertiary Reflections: Erasure, entropy, decay into nothing. Caelbrith does not revel in rot (Ny’yala uses decay to feed the cycle). He simply ends. His touch is the entropy that finishes all things, whether honored or cursed.

To invoke Caelbrith is to seek endings that cannot be undone: a tyrant cut down, a disease snuffed out, a lineage ended cleanly. For his faithful, mercy lies not in prolonging life, but in closing it without return.

• The Severant Blade: A rustless sword said to unmake whatever it strikes, not killing but erasing entirely. Blood spilled by it leaves no ghosts, no afterlife.

• The Ash-Veil: A funerary shroud that nullifies necromancy when wrapped around the dead, sealing the soul beyond reach.

• The Null Stone: A black sphere that swallows sound and light. To carry it is to carry silence itself, though prolonged touch frays memory and leaves minds hollow.

• The Ash-Dirges: Funerary chants recited in silence, punctuated only by strikes of iron on stone. Each dirge is meant to end grief by severing ties between the living and the dead.

• The Book of the Last Word: Sparse fragments carved into obsidian tablets. Each verse ends abruptly, mid-thought, as if cut short by Caelbrith himself.

His scriptures are austere, cryptic, often feared even by other priesthoods. They do not console, they instruct mortals to end, and end cleanly.

• Predominantly a broken circle, representing the severed cycle.

• A black veil or torn shroud.

• A hollow mask with no mouth.

Shrines are often simple: a black stone slab, a hanging veil of ash, or a pit into which words and offerings are thrown to vanish. No music, no light, only silence.

• All things end. To resist this truth is heresy.

• Sever what festers. Do not allow corruption, hunger, or rot to linger.

• Oaths break; silence binds. Words are lies, endings are truth.

• Mercy is finality. To let suffering persist is cruelty; to end it is compassion.

His followers see themselves as surgeons of reality, cutting away what should not linger. Priests of Caelbrith preside at executions, funerals, and burnings of cursed texts. To worship him is to embrace clean closure, even when it terrifies. When mortals die, some are pulled into Caelbrith’s veil. The Deafening Quiet. Unlike Orram's Drowned Expanse or Ny’yala’s Loom Eternal, Caelbrith’s realm is not a place but an absence. Within The Deafening Quiet, souls drift in an endless fog of stillness, their memories stripped until only silence remains. To his faithful, this is paradise, the end of suffering, the closing of all accounts, peace eternal. To others, it is horror, the dissolution of self, the void where nothing ever stirs again.   His blessing is finality; his curse, the same.

• The Last Ember (Onyx 28th): Fires are snuffed across villages at midnight, relit only at dawn. Meant to honor the severance of one day from another.

• Harrow Day (Topaz 30th): Where Xaethra’s cults mock devils with feasting, Caelbrith’s faithful dress in veils and keep silent vigils, honoring those who should never rise again.

• End the Unending. He despises what refuses to die, lichdom, revenants, hunger without closure.

• Erase Falsehood. What lies, deceives, or festers must be cut away, leaving only the void of truth.

• Guard the Veil. Death must remain inviolate; no necromancy, no hunger, no cycle may breach what is his.

And in whispers: that he once struck in silence, ending something before Xaethra’s rise. Whether this was betrayal, foresight, or mercy, none can say. But many of the gods spoke of him only briefly, and with great mistrust when they did, if the accounts of the faithful are to be believed; Some of the gods believed such a scheme is very likely, and if-happened may have dire consequences yet to come.

Caelbrith’s true form is not cloaked but torn open, a rift in the fabric of reality itself. Those who have witness him firsthand accidentally or otherwise describe him as a wound in the world, a gash across the sky through which light, sound, and thought bleed away into nothing. The edges of this wound quiver and split, forever breaking wider, yet never healing, jagged rents that gape into voids of absolute silence. Some survivors who gazed exceptionally deep swear that what lies inside the wound is worse still, glimpses of thousands of eyes in all directions yet al locked onto you wherever you go; Even after Caelbrith's form is long gone. Others speak of vast, ringed fractures, concentric halos of shattering crystal, that rotate and collapse upon themselves, erasing memory with every turn. To look upon him is to feel thought itself stutter and fail: words cut mid-sentence, memories collapse into blankness, entire languages abandoned in the space of a breath. Those who survived Caelbrith’s manifestation describe not merely horror but erasure. One soldier returned from his vision unable to finish any spoken word; another wept constantly, unable to recall why; still another stood frozen for weeks, his face locked in an unfinished scream. His form is not endured, it is survived, if one is not reduced to silence or unbeing altogether. When Caelbrith cloaks his essence for communion, it is no less unsettling. In dreams, he appears as a fissure running through sky or soil, bleeding black light that drowns sound. In waking avatars, he manifests as executioners without mouths, pallbearers whose faces are scarred with cracks, or statues that fracture when seen too long before repairing themselves in silence. Wherever he walks, time feels interrupted, as though the world itself forgot what it was doing. His presence is not weight like Orram, nor turning like Ny’yala, it is rupture. A divine subtraction. A wound that cannot heal.