In the bowels of a forgotten, crumbling moon base drifting in the shadow of a dying star, the Eidolon Circle convened for their Conclave of the Eclipsed.

The atmosphere was oppressive, heavy with the weight of secrets hidden beneath its decaying surface.

The meeting chamber was a sphere of pure black stone, polished to an unnatural sheen that reflected no light.

Its abyssal perfection consumed all brightness, as if rejecting the existence of illumination itself.

At the center of the room, a pulsing orb of prismatic energy floated; its surface shimmered erratically, showing fleeting glimpses of unknown worlds and shattered realities that twisted the senses.

The orb’s shifting patterns seemed alive, unpredictable in its movements; a chaotic yet calculated dance that mirrored the enigmatic purpose of those gathered.

Around the orb sat the Circle’s highest echelon of leadership: the Shrouded Luminaries.

Their name was rooted in whispers from forgotten times, when stars bled and entire galaxies fell silent at their emergence. Their legend carried a grim weight, painting them as heralds of power that defied comprehension.

The Shrouded Luminaries were revered and feared; not for their titles, but for what they represented. Agents of utter destruction, rebirth, and control, their influence rippling across the cosmic tapestry.

Each member wore identical cloaks of shadowed silk, their faces obscured behind masks etched with designs of ancient constellations warped into abstract forms.

The masks seemed to shift subtly, their intricate etchings carrying an unsettling fluidity that defied logic.

The air within the chamber was suffused with a faint hum, a resonance born not of technology but of something deeper, older; a presence that pulsed through the room, tangible yet invisible.

The orb at the center pulsed in sync with this resonance, and with each pulse, the room seemed to contract.

The boundaries of reality bent and quivered, drawn taut as if stretched by the will of those gathered.

The Luminaries sat in silence as the orb projected flickering images; their composure remained unbroken, their attention fixed on the shifting patterns as though receiving a sermon from the void.

A fractured timeline of events emerged: The Breach. The Archive. The Compass. The Games.

The images were deliberately fleeting, intended to reveal only as much as the Circle deemed necessary. Each fragment offered a glimpse of clarity before dissolving into obscurity, leaving only more questions behind.

Finally, the silence was broken by the figure seated at the head of the chamber; a presence whose authority stretched across centuries and whose name was spoken with both awe and trepidation.

Circle Head: Thalyth the Shardkeeper.

Thalyth’s mask bore the etching of interlocking shards, intricate fragments that seemed to shift subtly as the prismatic orb pulsed. Its design mirrored the nature of broken realities, both fragmented and beautiful in its chaos.

The sphere rippled faintly as Thalyth’s voice carried through the chamber; the authority in his tone silenced even the faint hum of the resonance, commanding the attention of every Luminary gathered.

"Kael T’saen ..."

Thalyth spoke, his voice emerging from the mask as a dissonant harmony. A perfect fusion of masculine depth and feminine sharpness, layered with a mechanical distortion that stripped it of any humanity.

The sound carried an otherworldly quality, resonating like the grinding of celestial gears, fracturing the air itself. It wasn’t merely loud or soft, but absolute; the kind of sound that pressed against reality, commanding attention and defying comprehension.

"The fragment has found its vessel."

The other Luminaries shifted slightly, their movements subtle yet unnatural.

Their cloaks billowed as if stirred by invisible currents, the prismatic glow of the orb reflecting off their abstract masks in waves of distorted light.

One of the Luminaries, their face hidden behind a distorted nebula mask, spoke; their voice wavered faintly, carrying an uneasy cadence that contrasted against Thalyth’s resolute tone.

"We risk much by granting opportunity for growth. This shard may rebel; it may refuse us."

Thalyth’s head turned toward the speaker, his sharp presence cutting through the hum of the chamber. The angular shards of his mask seemed to shift slightly with the motion, mirroring the tension in the room.

"If it does, I will break him," he replied sharply, his words slicing through the atmosphere like a blade. The deathly stillness that followed seemed to choke the room itself, every breath heavier than the last.

"And once broken, this child will beg to complete what remains undone."

Thalyth’s mask tilted toward the orb, which now displayed the Oracle’s shadowed lair on the barren planet of Chalyth.

The planet’s desolation seemed to seep from the image itself, carrying an unsettling weight that hung over the Luminaries like a shroud.

The entity within, the Oracle, twisted and grotesque, shifted faintly within the sphere’s light. 

Its presence was unnatural, a manifestation that defied the limits of reality, terrifying even to the Luminaries who carried cosmic power themselves.

"The fractured vessel will see the Oracle. Learn and push forward," Thalyth declared, his voice laced with a deliberate calm; the authority behind his words left no room for doubt or resistance.

"When the sealing is undone; when the shard ignites... we will be there to claim it."

"And if resistance arises?" asked the Luminary cloaked in the fragmented Ember moon mask, the molten lines etched across its surface glowing brighter with the question.

The glow pulsed faintly, echoing the rhythmic hum of the orb as the tension in the chamber grew taut.

"Resistance..." Thalyth paused, his tone dropping to a chilling whisper that rippled through the chamber. The sharp contrast between his commanding presence and hushed tone sent a shiver through the collective stillness.

"...is fleeting when the universe itself bends to our will."

The orb’s surface shimmered one final time, flickering with fragmented glimpses of the future.

Its prismatic light pulsed erratically, each flicker a fleeting but haunting prophecy.

Kael walking the barren grounds of Chalyth…

The Oracle’s monstrous visage looming over him; its grotesque form shrouded in a darkness that seemed to consume light itself…

The Rift Compass glowing faintly in the distance; its light an anchor amidst the chaos, though its purpose remained shrouded…

And finally; a vision of the breach, clawing at reality itself; fractures spread like tendrils of shadow, their presence tearing through the fabric of existence with relentless fury.

The Luminaries began to disconnect their projections, one by one, until only Thalyth remained.

Their abstract masks vanished from the orb’s reflection, leaving the chamber in an oppressive silence broken only by the soft hum of the resonance.

Thalyth’s gaze remained fixed on the orb, its shimmering patterns displaying a fractured image of Kael, torn between fear and determination. Kael’s silhouette flickered within the sphere’s light, his inner turmoil etched into the shifting glow.

Beneath Thalyth’s mask, a crude smile appeared; the subtle movement carried an unsettling weight, a silent mockery that echoed within the sphere’s pulsating glow.

"They think their plans are their own," he murmured, almost amused; the distortion in his voice sharpened the sarcasm, each word heavy with dark certainty.

"But when the breach sings its final note, only the deserving shall remain."

And with that, Thalyth vanished into the dark void beyond; the chamber fell still, the orb’s light dimming as its chaotic patterns faded into quiet obscurity.

*****