To be a Paladin is not as simple as stories or games— to Antebellum, there is no magic in following God.

To be a Paladin of true origin is to be of an ancient species, predating humanity and Earth and the beginning of Him. A species that thrived in kindness and pacifism among the stars and their shattered planet; taking great care to those around and beyond them for utmost passion and companionship. Paladins were adventureous and courageous; all-feeling and intertwined with the pool of magic that their home resided alongside, encompassing spirits and entities of pure, unbridled magic. And once they had come of age, they would visit a seemingly-infinite, crystalline pool and embrace the magic that greeted them at the water's surface from those supposedly forever deep depths of such a small body of water.

Renowned by those that knew the name of the Paladin species among the stars, they were the ultimate peacekeepers—the ultimate knowers of kindness and ability. With all that they could do, was it not pity and love that led them to never raise a hand against those beside their own existences?

Surely, as Antebellum would assure you, to be a Paladin is to be a God.

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In childhood, amongst fellow Paladins, were Fordune and Consiles. Two high-achieving friends; as many would assure you, simply the best of their class—truly, star pupils. Fordune thrived in his strength, and Consiles', his smarts. But that wasn't to say either was lacking in the others' department, either—both excelled in those fields too! However, both chased their interests—and it just so happened they did quite well together, given how they filled the spaces of the others shortcoming. As they grew, though, they strived for what was considered beyond what most ever could achieve—and in their chase, they began to fall into disarray, with ambitions set on consuming the stars. After all, to do so was rumored to grant you your grandest wishes, no matter how extravagant.

However, Their passion soon turned to danger, and Consiles brought to Fordune the old folktale of Paladins; the cautionary tale told to children to turn them away from disrespecting the stars, the very thing that was so kind as to allow them to live alongside. But written between its words were tastes of the truth! Fordune insisted. To devour the stars was to become stronger; to become holier.

To encapsulate magic beyond what Paladin bodies were intended, even with their Cor companions from the crystalline pool. But surely, Fordune continued, they could handle it. Were they not deemed the most unique Paladins among the living, destined for greatness? So Consiles consigned, and agreed. So long as progress could be seen and made, he said, perhaps I will go along with your crazy plan!

And so, they chased the stars.

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Now, it's here I must part with you a piece of truth I have neglected you so nervously. Fordune and Consiles did not exist only in cautionary and wives' tale amongst children and mothers— but, truly, as people once, too. They chased down the stars—Fordune consuming three, and Consiles only one. The affects of just one gleaming soul in his body felt sickening. Oh, but Fordune loved the feeling! It felt as though Sol herself were beneath his skin, begging he continue and grow, strive and feed her just as the stars fed himself, now.

But with such grandiose actions came grave repurcussions—with such power in comparably simple vessels, the magic and soul of the stars begged their bodies change. So against their desire, the natural Cor found dormant within all Paladins' bodies—usually only stirred once the crystalline pool joined them,—awoke without such a rite. Fordune thrived in this change; it must have meant he was closing toward his goal, having taken such a grandiose form of that of a dragon! Struck with gold and white to its scales and fur and stars embedded amongst its body like badges of pride and power, while Consiles, who did not share Fordunes optimism, had taken a mysterious form between something star-like and canid, with equine legs and neck. And it seemed neither the stars, nor other paladins, believed Fordune either. As consequence for their actions, and in fear of what could be done with this newfound magic that burst from the seams of their skin, a gathering of Paladins insisted they seal both Fordune and Consiles away to a realm of their own creation; a space that only they could inhabit and, hopefully, never escape from—where perhaps the stars would burn their bodies away peacefully. And though they succeeded, time wears to all— and unfortunately, there is no exemption for their realm. As it withered and wore away; albeit its cracks miniscule, Consiles—now dubbed Core'dus,—slipped through. And Fordune, who had taken it upon himself to become known only as Ragnarok, counting on his return and good news, instead heard nothing of him for years to come. Since then, he has since deemed him either dead or a coward. In his isolation, he began to create; populating his lonesome realm with creatures and monsters that were born with fear, or grew to learn it from him, in his attempts to learn how to change himself. Taking his own form down from the archaic dragon he had since lost his humanity to, he began to refine himself. If he were to escape, his form would give him away too easily. So he adapted, molding and changing to the form of something humanoid, and continued from there his work on creating creatures. In his lonesome research and learning, something came to him; a memory of what he had read as a child; as Fordune.

To see creation was to have a creator, too. Something had to have made him, just as he made the things that lurked past the walls of what he had made home within the realm. And it was from this moment he chased the knowledge; to know what had created him. And to take it in his hands and ask—

"Why would you leave me here?"

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Ragnarok, while deeming most all his creations failures of variable degree, deems one thing— one person, a true success; perfection, even. Known by many as Paradox, and by his father, as Aurion.

It began as an attempt to mimic humanity; Earth, as he came to learn of through the eyes of creatures much smaller than he that had slipped through the cracks of his realm, had granted him knowledge of such another existance. Every attempt was deemed simply a failure, until one turned to meet his eyes and hold its small hands out for his. And it was from there that something became more to him; that, for the first in a very long time, he found true compassion for something that existed beyond him.