The dim light of the moon filtered through the small window of Asterius's room, casting elongated shadows on the walls. He sat cross-legged on the cold floor, the silence of the night his only companion. But within his mind, the God of Astral stirred, a presence that was both comforting and overwhelming.
"You've been patient," the voice of the God of Astral echoed within Asterius's thoughts. "It's time you learned the truth."
Asterius closed his eyes, allowing the god's memories to flow into him. It began as a trickle, a faint echo of a time long forgotten, but soon, it became a torrent, sweeping him away into the depths of the past—a past that had been buried beneath the sands of time, obscured by the lies of those who had betrayed their own.
In the beginning, there was only the Void, a vast expanse of nothingness that stretched into eternity. From this Void emerged the Primordials, beings of immense power who shaped the cosmos with their will. Among them was Astral, a being of pure light and energy, born from the very fabric of the universe.
Astral was different from the other Primordials. While they sought to dominate and control the worlds they created, Astral was content to observe, to guide and nurture the fledgling beings that emerged in the wake of creation. He watched as stars were born and died, as planets formed and teemed with life. He marveled at the beauty of it all, the endless cycle of creation and destruction that defined existence.
It was in this role that Astral became known as the God of Knowledge, a title given to him by the first sentient beings who worshipped him. They were simple creatures, their lives brief and filled with struggle, but they possessed a spark of curiosity that endeared them to Astral. He shared with them the secrets of the universe, teaching them the ways of magic and the mysteries of the stars. Under his guidance, they flourished, building civilizations that reached for the heavens.
But Astral's peaceful existence was not to last. The other Primordials grew envious of his creations, seeing them as a threat to their own dominion. They conspired against Astral, plotting to bring about his downfall and claim his power for themselves.
It began with whispers, subtle suggestions planted in the minds of Astral's followers. Doubt and fear spread like a plague, turning the once-devoted worshippers against their god. They accused him of withholding knowledge, of keeping them in the dark while he basked in the light of the cosmos. They demanded more power, more control over their destinies, and when Astral refused, they turned their backs on him.
The betrayal was swift and brutal. The other Primordials struck while Astral was weakened by the loss of his followers' faith. They attacked with the fury of the cosmos, tearing through the very fabric of reality to reach him. Astral fought back with all his might, but he was outnumbered and overpowered. The battle raged across the heavens, a clash of titanic forces that shook the foundations of existence itself.
In the end, Astral was defeated. The other Primordials, fearing his return, cast him into the Void, sealing him away in a prison of darkness where he could do no harm. They spread lies about his fall, painting him as a tyrant who sought to enslave the universe. The truth of his benevolence was buried beneath the weight of their deception, and in time, Astral was forgotten.
The universe moved on. The civilizations that Astral had nurtured crumbled to dust, their knowledge lost to the ages. The Primordials continued their reign, ruling over creation with an iron fist. But the spark that Astral had ignited in the hearts of his followers could not be extinguished. It smoldered in the darkness, waiting for the day when it would be rekindled.
And so it was that Astral waited, alone in the Void, his power diminished but not destroyed. He watched as eons passed, as new gods rose and fell, as the universe cycled through birth and death. He waited for the one who would remember him, who would call out to him in the darkness and bring him back into the light.
That day came when Asterius, a broken boy on the brink of death, reached out in desperation. The bond they forged in that moment was more than mere survival—it was a merging of souls, a blending of their strengths and weaknesses. Astral had found his vessel, his champion, and through Asterius, he would reclaim what was rightfully his.
The memories faded, and Asterius found himself back in his room, his heart pounding with the weight of the revelation. He understood now—the God of Astral had been wronged, betrayed by those he had trusted, and cast into oblivion by the very beings he had once called allies.
But Asterius was no longer a passive observer in this story. He was the key to Astral's return, the one who would carry his power into the world once more. The Academy, the gods, the very fabric of the universe itself—they would all tremble before the might of the God of Astral, reborn in the body of a boy who had nothing left to lose.
Asterius stood, his resolve hardening with every beat of his heart. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he no longer walked it alone. Astral was with him, guiding his steps, fueling his power. The Academy would be the first to witness the return of the lost god, but it would not be the last.
As he prepared for the challenges that lay ahead, Asterius allowed himself a moment of reflection. He was not just fighting for himself anymore—he was fighting for Astral, for the truth that had been buried for so long. And he would not rest until the God of Astral was restored to his rightful place, no matter the cost.