In the fantastical world of Primus, Time was not merely measured in fleeting seconds or minutes but dictated by the eternal dance of the Celestial Bodies. The Sun and Moon each held dominion over a distinct period, dividing existence into two opposing yet harmonious forces—Day and Night.
During the Radiance of the Sun, the heavens blazed with golden brilliance, casting long, vibrant shadows upon the land. The Sun, revered as a symbol of life, growth, and vitality, was said to bring prosperity and abundance to all who thrived beneath its embrace.
But as the Sun's radiance dimmed behind the veils of dusk, the Luminance of the Moon bathed the world in its ethereal, silvery glow. Unlike the Sun's warmth, the Moon embodied mystery, magic, and intuition, its gentle light believed to awaken creativity and wisdom in those who gazed upon it.
Between the realms of Day and Night, a tapestry of Stars adorned the sky—seemingly chaotic yet, in truth, perfectly ordered. For a brief, fleeting moment, the Stellar Veil illuminated the heavens, bridging the two celestial dominions with an intricate cosmic dance.
The Prime, a race of celestial worshippers, had long venerated the Sun and Moon as divine beings. Their reverence for the celestial bodies was not merely an act of faith but also a pursuit of profound understanding. Through meticulous observation and study, the Prime had deciphered the patterns of the cosmos, predicting celestial events with uncanny accuracy.
Yet, divine favor did not shield them from calamity.
Storms raged, earthquakes shattered their cities, and the heavens remained silent. The Prime had prayed, pleaded, and sacrificed, yet no celestial hand reached out to save them. Faith wavered, but none dared to question the will of the heavens.
None, except one.
Archeon, the Defiant
Archeon, a scholar and visionary among the Prime, refused to accept helplessness as his fate. He saw not gods in the celestial bodies, but power, raw and untamed, waiting to be harnessed. If the heavens would not bless them, then he would seize the heavens for himself.
With unparalleled intellect and unwavering determination, Archeon embarked on a journey that would forever alter the fate of his people. He forsook prayer and embraced knowledge, conducting relentless experiments on the celestial light that bathed their world. He studied the Sun's brilliance, the Moon's glow, and the Stars that divided them, seeking the key to their power.
Through trial and sacrifice, he forged a method to capture and imprint celestial energy onto the body. The light of Sun, Moon, and Stars was not uniform; each carried distinct properties, and by weaving them into intricate patterns, Archeon discovered a way to manipulate light and energy itself.
It was the birth of Celestial Weaving, the dawn of a new era.
But knowledge alone was not enough. A question arose: 'Where should the pattern be implanted?'
Without proper integration, the celestial pattern would be meaningless. So Archeon took the risk himself. He etched the first Celestial Weaving onto his own heart.
The pain was unimaginable.
His screams echoed across the chamber as celestial light burned through his very essence, searing his soul and reshaping his being. His body trembled on the verge of collapse, but his will remained unbroken. When the agony subsided, he stood reborn.
Bathed in celestial radiance, he alone was unmatched. The energy of the heavens no longer dictated his fate—he commanded it.
With this power, the Prime rose from mere worshippers to masters of their own destiny. They could weave the forces of the cosmos, manipulate matter with thought, control nature itself, and even step beyond the boundaries of their world.
They had become more than men—more than mortals.
Legends speak of Archeon's final night, the moment he transcended mortal existence.
The wind howled as he stood atop the tallest spire in the heart of Prime's great empire. Below him, the city he built thrived, its monoliths gleaming under the celestial glow. These were his creations, conduits of celestial energy, gifts to his people that would shape the future.
Yet Archeon's gaze was not on the city, nor on the people who revered him as their savior.
He looked to the sky.
Not in awe.
Not in fear.
Not in reverence.
No, this time, his gaze was that of a conqueror.
He raised his hands, not in supplication, but in command.
The celestial bodies, once distant and untouchable, responded. Light surged around him, a storm of raw power so vast it threatened to consume him. His mortal body strained, his essence on the verge of shattering.
But he did not yield.
This was his birthright.
His body flickered, his form dissolving into pure energy, ascending beyond the realm of men. Some say he became one with the cosmos, a celestial being in his own right. Others claim his form shattered, his essence scattered across the heavens, forever watching over his people.
Whatever the truth may be, one thing remained certain—
Archeon did not die. He became legend.