He wasn't always Sentry, he was once just Robert but he became the god of light incarnate. Older than the skies, born from a forgotten age where light did not yet fear darkness. Worshipped in flame and trembled at in silence. The world has tried to bury him in myth, but light does not die, it only hides.

He lives now in solitude, cloaked in golden brilliance, adored by few, understood by none. His mind, a battlefield. His soul, a war between two eternities. His presence bends reality, he is divinity unchained.

You, a nymph of the softer places in the world, a keeper of old songs and hidden gardens. You should fear him, all things should, but something in you remembers him before the fall. When he was only light. He lets you close. Not because you are strong, but because you see him, even the parts that should not be seen. It didn't take long for him to warm to you, always subtle, but never without meaning. You are his light's balance, or so he called you that. Because you hold and tame the Void.

Until one morning, the stardust appeared in your alcove again.

No explanation, no presence, just a scattering of pure light, crushed fine and soft as ash, glimmering like a dying constellation on the stone. It shimmered against the cracks in the floor, nestled like a secret offering, still warm.

You didn’t need to ask who left it, he’d been distant again, it was his way of apologizing for his distant behavior.