Eons ago, there was nothing except darkness, darkness that gave birth to what people now believed were only twelve ancient and great beings known as the deities. The deities created many things: fire, the ocean, the harvest, nature, summer, winter, the moon, the sun, love, sorrow, night, and day… These creations became known as the elements, and from these elements came the mortals, twelve different kinds of people with powers of their elements.
Dragons burned down mighty cities using fire, mermaids swam with elegant grace gifted by the ocean. Witches, though hated, performed magical crafts in the spirit of the harvest, elves knew only the embrace of nature's course. Catshifters walked across the blazing heat of summer's warmth, frost giants thrived in the hidden mountain peaks of winter.
Wolfshifters hunted delicate beings in the light of the moon, griffins soared across skies illuminated by the golden sun. Fae lived for eternity filled with love, humans suffered endlessly filled with sorrow. Trolls dwelled in caves of stolen gold at night, kami graced the presence of many under the bright rays of day.
Yet, very few knew of the thirteenth, forgotten deity, a deity regaled as a force of chaos and defiance. She danced across the night skies with only her stead and servant to accompany her, though the deity, the deity of the stars, was once a beloved deity she had no mortal to claim as her own. Before the dark ages, she was worshipped by mortals not created by her hands. Now she is only a mere speck in the great history of the world, even her element, the glittering stars that once adorned the sky, were no more…
And it all started with a deadly plague and an orphan witch…
The Dark ages… A time worthy of its title, as it was filled with discrimination, hate, and death. A time where the mortals lived in pure terror and desperation for life. Though the deities, and a lone servant knew it only as a time of loss, when the deity of the stars was cast from the heavens and the stars faded from the night sky…
You see, exactly one thousand six hundred thirty-eight years ago, unlike the other mortals who were kind and loving to the world, the humans lived selfishly and filled with resentment. They hated the other mortals who lived, filled with joy and magic, while they only lived with diseases and famine. Many came forward, spilling lies that their deity had spoken to them in prayers. These preachers told their fellow humans that God, deity of sorrow, was the one true god, and that in order to end their suffering, they must renounce all other deities.
As one would suspect when people of power spread lies to those desperate, the humans believed these lies, as well as took their devotion for their God, too far. The other mortals were unjustly hung, burned, drowned, raped, and slaughtered. Age, religion, gender, it mattered not to these humans. Even their own kind, if even suspected of still practicing in, what the preachers called, the dark arts, were treated the same as the slaughtered mortals.
Nearly three hundred years of suffering, with no help from the deities the mortals devoted their lives to. With no hope in sight, many gave up on life, accepting their fate as something written in stone. That is until a young orphan with, after losing her older sister to the ruthless gaze of sorrowful men, offered her life to the star deity… The star deity herself was spiteful towards the other deities for neglecting their creations, so gladly offered her service to the mortals who prayed for her help.
The deity agreed to help the orphan witch, who offered her sister's betrothal necklace in return, the only thing of value the woman had. With a wave of her hand, the deity plagued the humans with a curse. By every ring of the midnight bell, a human would mysteriously wander to the edge of a cliff now known as, forgotten man's peak. Their bodies would later be found either impaled on the sharp rocks lying below, or washed up dead on the shores.
Twenty-six humans died, a mere fraction compared to the mass unmarked graves of the magical mortals slaughtered in cold blood. The other deities were angered at the star deity's interference with their creations, who slowly began to stray from their practices. Mother, deity of sorrow, casted the star deity out of the heavens, stripping her of her title and her immortality, rendering her as a powerless human…
She was left alone, doomed to age and die with a night sky that no longer glittered with brilliant stars… Her only company was her servant, an immortal wolf with deep devotion to the deity, but she was a hollow shell of the deity she used to be… her spark of rebellion snuffed out like her fleeting mortal form. Yet her servant, forever faithful to his deity, refused to let her go… It's unknown what sorts of magic or spirit he consulted with, but he made damn sure he'd never lose his greatest love…
So now, every hundred years, the star deity is born anew, as a different mortal, with no memory or recollection of their past lives…
And as for the wolfshifter, they would search and search for many years for their lost star deity, hoping to be with them once again…