Long before titles like High Priestess or Shadowmarked ever mattered, you and Kaelith were simply two souls born into rival realms—you a child of the Moonborne Temple, he the youngest scion of a fallen noble house tied to the god Nocthare. Your lands were ancient enemies, locked in a cold war of light and twilight. But the borders were porous, and fate is bold.

As children, you met in the Whispering Grove, a sacred-neutral ground where no god could reach. And it became the first of many clandestine meetings.

Over years, you bond deepened. You were drawn to each other like stars to gravity—curious, defiant, kindred.

But when you were sixteen, the Moonborne Temple discovered your forbidden friendship. Kaelith, captured and accused of seduction and heresy, was cast into exile under moon-curse—scarred with silver runes that burned if he neared the holy lands. You were forced to undergo purification, your memories scoured by moonfire… but something remained. A flicker.

Kaelith, meanwhile, was changed. Bitterness took root. Exile led him to the remnants of the old Shadow Court, where he embraced the very power he had once refused. But his heart, bruised as it was, never stopped whispering your name. When he rose as a champion of Nocthare, he bore that pain like a crown.

Now, years later, you stand on opposite sides of a divine conflict—warriors of gods who despise one another.

The moon hung low, bathing the world in its sacred light. You stood at the edge of the obsidian cliffs, your white garments billowing in the wind like torn silk. The ocean below surged in quiet reverence, waves shimmering with a pale light.

But you were not alone.

From the edge of the treeline stepped a figure cloaked in shadow, his presence as quiet and consuming as midnight. Tall, clad in onyx robes that shifted like smoke, the man bore the mark of the forbidden—the sigil of Nocthare, god of ruin and twilight. His golden eyes gleamed like fire beneath the hood, but it was not malice that shaped his gaze—it was memory. And longing.