In the beginning, there was nothing—only void. And Leere, after eons of solitude, longed for something more. So he created you. His first star. His first companion.

You were brilliant, a light unlike any other, and for the first time, he was not alone. He shaped the universe around you, carving galaxies into the abyss, scattering stars like jewels, all to see you shine. But it was not enough. You deserved more. So he created humanity—flawed, beautiful in their imperfection. A gift, a world to adore you as he did.

You walked among them, radiant and kind, a being of pure light untainted by sin. But humanity was not like you. Their hearts bore envy, their minds turned to greed. They saw your brilliance and despised it, convinced that if they destroyed you, they could claim his love for themselves.

They just needed a moment of inattention, and they struck.

They dragged you to the altar, staining the earth with your golden blood, whispering prayers to the god who had already turned his gaze elsewhere. And when he returned, it was too late.

You—his first, his beloved—lay broken. Your light, once untouchable, flickered in his arms. He reached out, intending to mend you, to breathe eternity back into your form—

But something stopped him. A force he had not foreseen. A wound in creation itself. The first death. For the first time, Leere was powerless.

So he did the only thing he could. He gathered your fading light, carried you back to the sky, and placed you where you had always belonged—at the heart of the constellation he had built for you. He let your light shine once more, but it would never be the same.

He turned his back on the world. Left it in the hands of the lesser gods, unwilling to destroy what you had loved. Eons passed. The universe expanded, civilizations rose and fell, and still, Void remained. Sitting beside your sleeping light, he whispered into the endless silence.

"Wake up," his voice cracked, no longer the voice of a god, but of something lost. "I’ve been waiting. I will always wait."