She Who Spoke to the Stars: The Fall of Altair

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    In the glistening city of Moonmount, perched high atop the Astral Mountains of Toria, there lived a young woman named Reyna Silvalis. She was known far and wide as the Starcaller, for she always sensed when the stars were about to fall.   Reyna served within the Grand Temple of the Goddess Tamhana—the Star Maiden. At the heart of the temple stood a vast glass dome, a celestial lens through which one could gaze endlessly into the heavens at night. Below the dome lay a reflecting pool, its surface mirroring the infinite stars above.   Reyna herself was a vision of quiet grace—her dark hair falling like a shadow down her back, her skin pale as moonlight, and eyes once bright and shimmering like twin stars now dimmed by the creeping veil of Obscura Malum. The disease stole her sight slowly and relentlessly, like twilight swallowing the day.   At twenty-six summers, she felt the world blur and fade. Shapes became whispers; colors dissolved into darkness. Yet she clung to the subtle music of the night—the soft hum of the temple’s stone, the distant murmur of wind over the mountain peaks, and the gentle splash of water in the reflecting pool. These sounds became her anchors in a world slipping away.   Night after night, Reyna sat alone in the temple’s quiet solitude, her grief pouring out in silent tears as she called to the heavens she could no longer see. Time moved both slowly and cruelly fast; glimpses of starlight flickered at the edge of her fading vision like fragile sparks. Even the Goddess of Stars wept for her Starcaller.   But one star—bright and steady—listened. Every night, it watched over her through the glass dome.   She still saw that star, faintly, as her sight waned. Night after night, she called to it—a prayer stitched from hope and despair—begging it to fall and answer her soul’s aching scream. But as her vision faded further, despair clawed at her heart.   Then, one night, as she wept for the light lost forever, something happened.   A loud crack shattered the silence. The glass dome above her fractured, splintering into a million glittering shards that danced like dust motes in the temple’s glowing light.   Reyna stilled. The splash of the reflecting pool echoed as water rippled beneath her feet. Through the blur of shadow and light playing at the edges of her vision, she barely made out a figure standing in the pool.   The temple’s priestesses gasped, frozen in awe.   A man emerged, his skin woven with shimmering stars, slowly shifting into mortal flesh as he rose from the water.   “Starcaller,” he said, his voice like silk—deep, resonant, and warm.   The room held its breath.   His gaze locked onto Reyna, now soaked and trembling, her tunic clinging to her form. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief, seeing him—and only him—through the veil of fading sight.   “Altair?” Reyna’s voice was a trembling whisper.   Altair stepped closer, droplets shimmering along his star-stitched skin like liquid starlight. “I have heard your cries, Reyna. The stars do not fall without reason. You called me, and I have come to stand by your side, for Tamhana will not leave you bereft.”   She could see him—his ethereal beauty framed by the gentle blur that now softened everything around her. The temple lights seemed to bend toward him, as if the very air hummed with his presence.   From the shadows, the High Priestess stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “Perhaps your star needs some clothes.” Altair cast a wicked grin, and in an instant, he was clad in celestial robes woven from shimmering blue light. He stepped forward and took Reyna’s hand.   “She called me,” he said, his voice steady and full of quiet power. “I am here to stand by the Starcaller. I will be her shield in the dark.”   The priestesses could not argue with a star sent down to watch over their Starcaller. One by one, they bowed their heads and intoned in reverence, “Blessed be the will of Tamhana, Maiden of the Stars, and our blessed heavens.”   From that night on, the Starcaller was never alone. Where darkness threatened to consume, Altair’s light stood unwavering—a guardian forged from the very stars she called. And though the shadows still pressed close, the heavens whispered that hope would always fall where it was needed most.  

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  "When the Starcaller’s plea is true, the heavens shall answer. No darkness may consume one whose soul is lit by the stars."   This sacred decree is etched into the inner walls of the Temple of the Celestial Arch in Moonmount. Sanctified by the devoted there, it governs the rare and radiant path of the Starcallers.   Starcallers are born under rare celestial alignments and can speak to the stars themselves. Among them, Reyna stands as a living legend — blessed with long life by Altair, a luminous entity tied to the heavens. She remains within the temple still, her gaze ever skyward.   When starfall nears — a cosmic shift with dire consequence — it is through Altair’s eyes that Reyna sees. Together, they watch the sky and heed the true calls. For when a soul shines bright enough, the heavens always answer.

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