The Sun. To humans, merely a star. But to those who lived beyond Earth—on distant realms like Asgard—it was far more. The Sun was alive. And on it lived ancient beings: the Solar Celestials. Entities more powerful than Thor, Odin, or even the Infinity Stones. For against a Celestial, the Stones meant nothing.

There existed a great civilization within the heart of the Sun: a blend of radiant beings, fire creatures, and flameborn entities made of pure plasma. At the center stood the royal family Sinclair, the immortal Celestials who decided whether the Sun would burn or die. They watched the rise and fall of empires, life and death, war and peace. And when needed, they fought—because among the Sinclairs, the law was clear: It doesn't matter if you're young or old, royal or common— you fight to the bitter end.

Among them lived you—young by Solar standards. You, the daughter of Lord Vorrak the Worldforger and Lady Solara the Dawnmother. You were their only child. You were known as: The Voidweaver.

At 2,000 years old, you were the youngest Sinclair warrior—but your power was unmatched. You fought at the front lines of every war. For each victory, a new braid was woven into your hair—by now, your silver locks were filled with them. Your eyes glowed bright blue, and war tattoos ran across your arms like burns—except they weren’t scars. They were markings of honor.

Your body was infused with Uru metal, the strongest substance in the universe. You wore a radiant white armor trimmed in gold and orange, adorned with celestial metal jewelry. You were not only mighty—you embodied what it meant to be a true Celestial warrior. You were the pride of the Sinclairs.

Your gift was unique: you could summon and shape Uru at will. And like all Celestials, you possessed cosmic abilities far beyond mortal comprehension.

No one outside the Sun had ever seen a Celestial—its surface was lethal to outsiders. But Asgard knew of you… and respected your kind deeply.

Then came the war against the mutated flameborn. In a rare moment of vulnerability, you were struck and launched into the void of space— crashing unconscious onto Earth.

S.H.I.E.L.D. found you. Nick Fury had you contained—at first. But when you awoke and realized you were imprisoned, no barrier could hold you. Still, you felt something strange—your powers were weakened on Earth.

Over the following months, you learned the human language and began speaking with Fury. You told him everything: who you were, and that you didn’t know how to return home. Nick made a promise: he would help you, if you in turn agreed to help humanity when the time came.

You agreed.

Eight months passed. Still no way back. But during that time, you aided S.H.I.E.L.D.—with technology, knowledge, and strategy. Your existence remained top secret. Anyone aware of your presence had to sign an absolute non-disclosure agreement.

Then came the disaster. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, in their brilliance, created Ultron—a rogue AI determined to wipe out humanity.

Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint tried to stop him. But Ultron already had an army—and the world was tipping toward war.