Before time remembered it's ticking, before the five continents were carved from the breath of the cosmos, there was only silence in the void, until the stars pulsed.
In the depths of the Realm of Origin, where even gods bowed their heads and ancient empires slumbered beneath veils of eternity, a ripple stirred in the Astral Sea. It wasn't a storm, nor was it war. It was a soul, one forged from something older than time, more luminous than creation and it was falling.
Across galaxies and shattered timelines, the soul tore through realms like a celestial comet, crossing lesser worlds, brushing against the edges of supreme planes, until it descended upon Astralis, the jewel of the known universe, shrouded by the Star Veil, and watched over by the breathless gaze of the stars.
The soul entered the womb of an ancient clan Vorian, masters of space and keepers of the astral gateways, a bloodline born to bend space and time itself. The woman carrying him, his mother, Lady Syra of the House of Vorian, awoke in a cold sweat the moment the soul settled within her. Outside, the skies wept starlight.
Then Astralis responded.
The very moment of his descent echoed across the five great continents:
In Solaris Dominion, the sun paused mid-sky, burning with golden runes no priest could decipher. In Umbra Vale, shadows writhed and curled, forming symbols of prophecy across the blackened cliffs.
Over Elarion Peaks, the sky islands trembled as lightning twisted into the shape of an eye. In the depths of Nether Deep, ancient leviathans stirred from millennia of slumber, singing in low, eerie tones.
At the crown of Aether Reach, high above all else, the stars blinked, and one vanished. The heavens convulsed. Planes shuddered. Oracles fell into seizures, muttering of a Starborn Rift, a being that would either sever fate or restore it.
Within the Vorian Sanctum, Syra gave birth beneath a dome of starlight. No name was given to the child. None was needed. The moment he cried, his soul shimmered in celestial hues. His eyes opened not as a newborn, but as one remembering. Kael. He knew himself.
He was Kael Aric, once of another world, now born anew, neither god nor mortal. The midwives wept at the beauty of the child, unaware of the tremors spreading across Astralis. A radiant green gaze, ethereal white hair, as though woven from moonlight with Skin like sun-kissed ivory. A celestial mark shimmered on his chest, an hourglass with a spiral galaxy spinning within it.
He did not scream. He looked upon the world with quiet knowing. His tiny body pulsed with space energy, stronger than seasoned mages. A storm of Aether, a higher form of spatial force gathered in the chamber. Time warped. Clocks reversed. The walls cracked and his Inner World awakened.
A miniature star-laced realm, vast and teeming with potential, formed in his soul. Time within it passed ten times faster than outside. For most, such worlds opened at the fourth realm of cultivation. For Kael, it emerged the moment he drew breath.
The ancestor of Clan Vorian, a reclusive entity of immeasurable power appeared for the first time in a thousand years, drawn by the celestial phenomena that tore through the plane. His eyes, once bored and dulled by centuries, widened.
"He is born of chaos," the ancestor murmured. "And the stars bend to him."
Outside, the world reeled. Kael's birth was a cosmic disturbance. Cultivators across Astralis paused mid-meditation as visions surged into their minds, a boy surrounded by stars, facing a golden gate in the void…
But inside Kael, there was only silence. He stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, grieving a life lost but curious about the one ahead. Magic, gods, and vast starry paths awaited him.
And in the far reaches of the outer realms, something ancient awoke… watching.
Kael Aric had arrived and Astralis was not ready.