Prologue: The Stars
Some called it fate, others the trace of a god.
Someone sneered that it was merely a shining lump of rock.
But long ago, the sages who gazed up at the heavens came to a realization.
A single star was nothing more than a mere point of light.
Yet when stars gathered to form a current, it became will.
Scattered radiance forged paths,
the voids between stars wove tales,
and when thousands of lights converged on a single direction.
They began to comprehend their own existence.
As beings who peered down upon the night.
Weaving destinies, observing epochs, and imbuing the choices of mortals with meaning.
And so, people cast aside their myriad names, uniting them under one.
Masters of the stars.
The will of the stellar host.
Observers etched into the firmament.
Constellations.
And among those constellations, one blazed with exceptional brilliance…
"Ah… I can't help but sigh."
That being was the Constellation of Light.
"No, how could things rot this badly in the short time I was away?"
The Constellation of Light was worshipped by mortals under another name.
Yustia the goddess. And those who followed her were the Holy Light Church.
By her own measure, Yustia had been absent for just a moment… a very brief one.
She had paused her regular oracles for that span.
Yet upon her return, in that fleeting interval, the Holy Light Church had festered into a breeding ground of corruption.
"How much did I toil to nurture it this far?"
Each time she bestowed an oracle upon a mortal, elevating them to prophet, she wrought miracles through her divinity, bolstering them in body and spirit.
Sometimes, amid persecution and suppression, their numbers had dwindled to near nothing.
But in the end, it had risen to become the state faith of countless mortal realms.
And yet.
"What am I supposed to do with this…?"
Now, it was little more than a bloated tumor.
She knew full well what neglect would bring, so she had no choice but to wield the scalpel for a radical excision. Your own shit is yours to clean. That was the unspoken code among the constellations… Leave it be, and the others would swarm like flies.
"A miracle to rally the faithful…? No, it's too far gone for that. A holy relic, then…? Nah, no good."
Overwhelmed by mounting stress, she tore at her carefully arranged hair.
"…."
A hush fell.
"Ah."
Enlightenment dawned.
"…I'll just send a Saint."
Starlight danced in her eyes.
Worlds and eras unfurled and folded in an instant—kings and heroes, holy knights and martyrs, a torrent of names flashing past.
But Yustia shook her head.
"No. Drop another from on high, and it'll rot the same way."
A mature faith spoiled easily. The instant it clasped hands with power, belief lost its substance.
What was needed wasn't a hero.
A tiny spark.
Her gaze drifted slowly downward.
Over a vast continent, skimming an empire, heedlessly surpassing radiant holy cities and towering cathedrals.
And then.
In the forsaken fringes where no one looked, her eyes came to rest.