▼ Long, thin ears with a slight tuft at the end of them, reminiscent of bat ears.

△ He is tall and thin. He could easily be described as wiry.

▼ His hooves and horns are a polished, shinning pale blue, much like ice.

△ He has eyes like a frozen river. The pupil is slit like a snake. He has two fangs that protrude out of his lips.

▼ He has a thick, curly black mane and tail tuft. It is ever-messy and bouncy.

△ The coat that covers him is black at its base, but fades gray towards his belly.

▼ His coat is very lightly dappled, and there are chimeric stripes across it.

△ His freckles are like fallen stars. They glow ever so slightly, and cover his nose, cheeks, shoulders and hindquarters.

▼ He had two long, sharp horns atop his head. One is located between his eyes and the other is at the dip of his eye ridge.

△ He tends to wear light jewelry, usually a blue-y silver color and often with a symbolic cross or chains.

Caelian Belaire was built from the experiences of a century. What he once was he lost long ago, and what he is now is as swaying as his uncertain choices. Mostly, his persona is a clashing battle of cunning, savvy and poignant; also, he can be feely, sensitive but commonly emotionless. Hewn from days of solitude and endless verbal violence, he's a foe to be reckoned with. He often comes off, or appears, calculating and cold with almost little remorse for the well being of those around him. He can be manipulative, and his blunt speech often heeds him no friends and he's quite a lonely, broken soul.

Caelian is not rude, nor arrogant and prideful. He's intelligent, beyond what is good for any living creature. And being so, he's learned how to manipulate the ways of others in order to end a conversation as quickly as possible. Polite, he is; he tends to be easy to converse with. However, though his words are never dry, they are cold, emotionless, feeding to his near-inhuman-like posture and his longing to simply be alone.

Being astute, he has a clever brain just as sharp as his eyes. He's an expert observer, and can easily assess a situation and build a theory for an outcome. His adroit nature lends to his gifted way of deduction, being able to deduce a reason from behind something as little as a shift in weight. His mind is polished, always working in overtime. He is not an amateur in the subject of observation; yet, he hardly allows anyone to know what happens within his head. He keeps his mind closed off, and almost everything else about him in check.

Caelian is skeptical of all people, thinking them all fairly untrustworthy. He believes the world around him has lost all sense of honour and trust, and frankly, he's lost all hope. The only person he ever gave his all to was his mate, and she went insane because of the world around her and killed herself. This kind of grief was something Caelian never wanted to experience again, and he could never put his faith back in something that spat in his face.

The stallion is a broken fragment of a shard of glass. It is hard to tell if he will ever be pieced back together, he was shattered long ago. Once a caring, playful individual, this demeanour snapped when his life was flipped upside-down and he was forced to leave his only home. He is often emotional but a master at masks, and able to control it easily. He tries to distance himself from emotions in any way, sometimes leading to little tact around others. It is hard for him to connect to the warmth others put off anymore.

It will always be easier for Caelian to stay cold, distant and emotionless, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have some sense of kindness for others. He may show some sort of sympathy for someone in hurt, but will hardly take a step to help. If someone is indeed in deep hurt or pain, he may try to aid this individual in some way.

He can be protective of those he becomes close to, if that were to ever happen. He is not entirely heartless, no matter how he may seem upon first interactions. He is very much at war within his own heart, a battle between two different personalities that don't seem to fit together and the fear of growing close to another once again, and having them ripped away from him.

This is the full account of Caelian Secretarias Belaire, from origin up to his discovery of the Uncharted lands. It recalls three hundred years of time, how he matured and changed and how others influenced him and who he became.

Sensitive topics are briefly discussed.

A t n i o n

Caelian Secretarias Belaire used to be more than he became. He was once happy, a stallion in search of adventures. He used to wear smiles upon his face. Laughter used to bubble from his mouth and lift high into the air, drifting away as free as he ran. He used to enjoy what was in front of him, living every day to its fullest. His eyes used to sparkle with the light of a newborn fire, a burning, bright and young light looking for something more but always loving what was given to him. He used to live high as a kite, a soul floating on the wind. Free.

What happened.

Caelian was born in the City of the Sun: Atnion. Atnion was an extremely civilized state located on a fairly large island. This island was completely covered in lush vegetation, trees and beautiful beaches lined with crystal waters. The only part of the gorgeous isle that didn’t sprout in fine greenery was the large city on the shining east coast; a city that sparkled in the night and lit up in the hearts of everyone who lived there. It was almost entirely made of marble, ivory, and every other kind of beautiful, white rock. Streets were lined with fine jewels, gold, and silver, though no one had reason to steal any from the walls of the city. The civilians of Atnion were just as luxurious and rich as their surroundings, adorning themselves in diamonds and soft fabrics. The king who ruled the land was a strong and handsome figure who never had reason to fight. All of Atnion was a place of peace and prosperity.

The inhabitants of Atnion enjoyed the finer things in life, and often divulged in unnecessary adornments for every corner of their lives. In turn, artists and artisans were regarded very highly and were held with great importance in society. And so Rynial, a talented but small-town stonemason, set his eyes to the horizon and tried his luck at the lottery of Atnion. It did not take long for Rynial to become recognised, and he became rich and even more skilled in his works over his years of living there. That was when he thought of a certain project no one would be able to see or hear about. He collected a large block of obsidian and a large block of marble and began his project, chipping away at the rocks with his telekinetic powers and tools. For three years he perfected these two statues, working on them every day until they could blink, they were so realistic. Then finally, he brought them out into the daylight to flaunt his accomplishment to the city.

The statues, in all their beauty, became the centre of attention all across Atnion. Everyone came to marvel at the beauty of these two statues, though many attempts at purchasing these masterpieces were quickly rejected. These statues were Rynial’s pride and joy and could not be sold at a price. One night, a particularly interesting costumer came to Rynial to see these statues. It was dark and the lights were being shut off when Rynial was closing his doors to visitors. However, this figure insisted that she see the statues and would only take a moment. Reluctant but seeing no harm in letting the mare see his work, Rynial let her in. She looked them over quickly, complimented him, and went on her way. What Rynial didn’t know was what she had whispered under her breath.

The next morning, Rynial woke up to a real anomaly. His beautiful statues lay in pieces on the floors, and two visitors stood in his small home. They were extremely unique in their appearances and qualities. The mare, by the looks of her, was tall and elegant, beautiful. Her coat shone like the moon, faintly sparkling. Her mane resembled marble, and it was soft and flowed easily. Her horn was spiraled and long, colored a gorgeous blue that matched her hooves. And her eyes, her eyes were a pretty lavender that bled into purple around her pupils. Then Rynial’s attention turned to the stallion. He was slightly taller than the mare, but just as gorgeous in his own way. His dark coat was dappled in lovely freckles and he had slightly lighter undertones. His mane also resembled a rock, an obsidian rock. His two horns were also spiraled and colored an obsidian purple. But his eyes, his eyes could make anyone drop dead. They sparkled with the light of a distant star and were such a beautiful blue, Rynial wanted to capture them in a painting, if he could paint. However, these two horses seemed vaguely familiar.

That was when it hit him. These horses were familiar because he had created him. Rynial had carved these beautiful anomalies from hoof over the span of three years, and last night they had been brought to life by some spell. With excitement, Rynial raced out into the city to tell everyone and that day, the small home was overrun with visitors.

They, of course, were both given names and places in the community. They were given personal lessons to learn how to speak, and anything else they craved to know. Their brains were extremely susceptible to the knowledge they were given, and quickly, they even outranked the scholars in their studies. They became the king’s personal advisors, both because of their beauty and because of their overflowing knowledge. Though, the king always favored the mare over the stallion, mostly because she fit in, with her sparkling white coat like the rest of the city. The dark stallion stuck out like a sore thumb, the only dark coated horse in all of Atnion.

Because of this favoring, the stallion felt deeply neglected and fell into the shadows and rumors began to float around the city about him. They believed he was sketchy, shady, born of the night. Some people began to fear him and what he was. They called him a shadow to fear, and eventually was rejected by society. The mare grew in the limelight. She was nearly perfect, with her bright smiles and gentle personality. She was completely adorable and overly pure, while the stallion was quite as enjoyable as she was, he was thrown under the bus. Eventually, he grew sick of it and became what they already thought he was, a shadow to be feared. He growled at anyone who met eyes with him, and he walked to and fro with his head down and his mane hanging over his eyes.

This life he lived, he hated it. Eventually, he confronted his sister and told her what he felt. She didn’t believe it because she never saw it. This allowed him to open his eyes, and he saw the city for what it was: fake. So he left. He had already researched spells and had some ability in magics, so he went to his professor and asked for a spell on wings. Of course, he was given one, and in turn given a way to get off the island.

He planned his escape thoroughly, and when the time came to execute it, he never hesitated. He went to the south side of the island, where the wind was high and the cliffs were especially large. It was night and the moon shone brightly, the waves crashed far below and the low vegetation rustled in the wind. With the spell the stallion whispered, he sprouted wings. These wings were incredibly beautiful, hewn out of an almost translucent black. They held a hue of purple within them and were struck through with crackle-lines like a slab of obsidian would have. They also seemed to sparkle in the moonlight and held the stars within them. The feathers were soft and blew in the wild wind when the stallion extended them.

Now was the time. With eyes closed, he took a leap of faith and spread his wings, jumping off the side of the cliff. For a moment, he had this horrible falling feeling before the wings caught the air and lifted him up. He glided for a moment, before flapped them once and soared higher. With a smile, he flew away from his horrible life and to where he would be able to begin a new one. He would be able to rediscover himself, to be who he always wanted to be.

E l y s i u m

It was not hard for the young stallion to find Elysium, nor to become accustomed to an entirely different land. He longed so badly to be free of Atnion and the misery it had caused him that he welcomed the new opportunity with open arms. However, he found that though this new land was brimming with possibilities, it was not far off from what he was left behind. In fact one thing in particular, kingdoms and especially hierarchies, caused him to be a wanderer and a rogue for most of his time in Elysium.

As a Rogue, Caelian met many odd bodies and strange beings, two of the strangest and most memorial being Grimm and Thelxepeia. Though Caelian was a sweet, somewhat timid and unsociable creature, he had found Rimrock Bay to be a place of dangers that forced him to bring out another side of his being. Having to protect himself from a giant crab, he had smashed it with his front hooves until his entire front body was covered with blue blood. The scent and the scene had drawn the two mysterious beings, and he learnt that day that this world was full of creatures and horses like him; dark, strange and mysterious creatures that lead him to feel much more at home than in the clutches of Atnion, where everything glittered, sparkled and no one stepped out of line.

Luvena was the one to convince him of the impossibility: hierarchies weren’t so terrible after all. He met her in a cave after a stormy night, when the ocean was high and the two horses were forced to take shelter. By the light of a resurrected glowing jellyfish, as Lu was a necromancer, they spoke of many things and the young boy learnt much of the world he now lived in, as well as what living in a herd truly was suppose to be, instead of what Atnion made it out to be.

One fateful day, Crucis’ leader stepped down to give a new leader a chance at ruling. His name was Gotham, and he called out to Elysium in a way Caelian had never heard of before, and it drew him in. Gotham changed his view on leaders, kings, and sovereignty. He found that true kings were meant to be just, wise and protective of those living under them. Gotham even taught Caelian how to fight in the Colosseum, where the rain poured overhead and the two tested their abilities. Caelian with electricity and Gotham with the power of rain behind him, it was a match to be remembered.

However, not long after, Caelian felt drawn to a new land, maybe because of the pounding weight that he felt. He was eternally guilty of leaving behind his sister, Lythe, and he felt the pain of her absence constantly. Everywhere he looked, he seemed to see her. Though Elysium had let himself be who he truly was, where he could sing off the side of the mountains and smile and playfully spar with his friends, he knew his time here had almost come to a close. Standing on the edge of the ocean, the water playing over his hooves, he looked back to the mountainous land that had brought him to life and taught him how to be free. ”I shall miss you,” he murmured, with a small smile playing across his muzzle. And with that, he spread shadowy wings and took flight, soaring above the ocean in search of a new journey.

S l i d r V a l l e y

Days and nights Caelian endlessly flew, his feathers becoming bedraggled and soaked by the sea spray and almost consistent storms he had to fly through. He had to rest on miniature outcropping jutting out from the ocean, his legs nearly giving out underneath him as he tried to steady slipping hooves on a dripping surface. Many times, his wings wanted to snap underneath the weight of the water dragging him down. His muscles were sore, he hadn’t seen land in a week. And he began to have this odd, sick feeling in his stomach. If only horses could throw up.

Around halfway through Caelian’s journey, he was struck by an overwhelming sensation that sent him spiraling into the ocean. It was as if he’d been hit across the head with a hammer, and as his body went tumbling into the dooming waves, he blacked out. The odds were against him, there was no doubt that Caelian should have died.

Yet, some sort of miracle must have settled upon the young stallion. Two days later, he opened his eyes to find himself upon a miniature isle in the middle of a calm sea. His wings were stuck with seaweed, and he coughed up small spurts of water, but he was otherwise untouched. With aching legs, he pushed himself to his hooves and prepared himself to fly out once again. An overwhelming determination had set in his bones: he would not be stuck at sea until he died. However, just as he was about to lift off again, his hoof fell into a puddle, and he looked down into his reflection. What was looking back at him truly surprised him. On the very edges of both his eyes, it looked as if his veins exploded. As he looked closer, he noticed they were not, in fact veins, but more like a tiny, black oil spills. However, these black marks were only visible if he looked down. He took it upon himself not to worry about it, so he flew onwards.

At the sight of land, Caelian flew towards a gigantic tree that loomed out of the ocean fog, a beacon to his aching limbs. As he landed, his broken appendages seemed to mist away into the breeze, and he trotted forward. What lay in front of him was a gateway, a truly massive tree that called itself the guardian of the Slidr Valley. He felt called to the roots of the tree, curious about what lay beyond. So, he took it upon himself to venture into the dark depths of the caves. Upon entrance into the valley, Caelian instantly found himself more welcome than he had ever been in his life, meeting one who would eventually become his best friend: a night-speckled pegasus named Nevermore. Nevermore lead him out of the maze called the Bifrost, the roots of a tree that would’ve claimed his life if Nevermore hadn’t been there to aid him.

He wandered as a Nonpartisan for a short time after Nevermore and him had separated, going their own paths. But it wasn’t long before the mere 17-year-old had caught wind of an empty throne in the North. He travelled a long way from where he had begun to the place where he would eventually reside, and upon entrance, he found the seat and claimed it. What he had learnt from Gotham had finally come to use, and he found it amusing that the one that had once despised hierarchies so much would be the one to rule it.

But Caelian knew he didn’t want to be a normal king. In fact, he hardly wanted his people to view him as a king at all. He was simply a citizen that had been given the right to rule, and he wanted his people to see him as so. They deeply respected him for this choice, and he was never called “Sovereign” or “King” by any standards. In fact, many people outside of Ambrosius had no idea that Caelian was even the ruler, and he enjoyed it this way. He liked to show that everyone was on equal ground, everyone had a say. For this reason, he never condoned a court, because he wanted to hear from all of his people instead of from a few representatives.

The first friend he met in the Valley was Ragnor, a loyal and trusting friend who he much enjoyed the company of. Later, he went back into the wilderness of the Valley and found Nevermore again. At this encounter, he had offered residence in Ambrosius for Nevy, and the speckled raven had accepted. These were the first real friends Caelian had ever had, and he kept them dreadfully close, telling them everything he possibly could, since he knew he could trust them, and he had never experienced that beforehand.

They experienced many adventures together, one of the most memorial being a glowing pine tree they discovered within the borders of their own home. Caelian knew that he was overjoyed at the prospect of his best friends exploring with him, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything. What they discovered within the tree was a fairy, a small spirit that bestowed them with gifts and caused their coats to magically gleam for a short time.

Though, not long after, Caelian had been walking with Ragnor in an attempt to learn about the Slidr Valley, its history and the previous Ambrosius ruler as to better know the people of his kingdom. He had wanted to become a better native, a better person for his fellow herd. He didn’t want to seem lost, naive and clueless anymore. But instead, a tragedy befell the giant, and Ragnor was killed by a much more fearsome, natural predator: Vidar. He slaughtered Ragnor before Caelian’s eyes as the two tried to fend off the beast. But eventually, the battle was lost, and Ragnor’s body was left to bleed on the ground while Caelian was forced to flee, bleeding silver blood and tears.

He never forgave himself for the death of his best friend. If only he hadn’t been so curious about the past, if only he had asked on another evening or kept his curiosities within the boundaries of his own home, Ragnor would still be alive. This kind of guilt manifestation built upon the previous one of abandoning his sister, and he began sliding down a hill. It was the beginning of his insanity.

Not much could be remembered from his downward climb, but a few memories were especially apparent in Caelian’s spiraling mind. While he was still going down, but right on the edge of the beginning, he met Iracebeth. She was a lovely, kind individual with a spirit that seemed to keep him in the light. He was glad to call her his friend after their meeting.

But when he was attacked by the great wolf Fenrir and his kin, something seemed to break a little more in Caelian. He grew darker knowing something as horrible as Fenrir crawled across his home and the lands he had grown to love. It was almost as if a storm was growing over his mind, shadowing the brightest parts of his past and causing him to forget memories that gave him joy. Flying back to his home after the attack was a fight in his brain between what was good and what was bad. Eventually, he found himself wanting to escape his own skin and flew to the coldest, darkest cave in the Northern mountains, only to be rescued by Nevermore. After Ragnor’s death, Nevermore became the brother Caelian never had. He inquired about the state Caelian had fallen into, and brought him back to the light one last time. But Nevermore was the last to talk to Caelian while he was still sane. After that, something devoured him.

At first, it wasn’t entirely apparent. Close to Caelian’s 18th birthday, he held a party in Ambrosius. Equines from all over the land came to the party to mingle, have fun and be with their friends for the night. By then, Caelian had lost most of his grip on his sanity, though whatever monster that had overtaken him hid it well that night. It was the last night.

At the party, it was the first time Caelian condoned to put on a crown. It was not an elaborate crown, simply black metal inlaid with diamonds, but it meant something. It was a symbol to those who knew Caelian, and also to those who did not. For those who knew the boy and his ways, it was a symbol of change. Something had altered in his being, but none seemed to notice that night, as it was customary to dress up for a party of a king. Everyone had come dressed up, fancied to their finest to enjoy the night of dancing and drinks. Very few noticed the king’s distress as they greeted him and went on their merry way, but Kagura noticed. Her special arcana allowed her to tap into Caelian’s emotions and the darkness beyond. They danced that night together, speaking of many worries and miseries. She was perhaps his last connection to the real world, the last thing that could’ve saved him from whatever darkness lay beyond. She eased his mind for the night, but it was not enough. As the sun rose in the morning, the void devoured and the monster overtook.

Caelian had a hard time remembering anything in his time of psychosis, but certain memories stood out fresher than the rest. It was as if he could see what was happening, but he couldn’t control himself or do anything to stop himself from making terrible mistakes. It started with the lightning creature he killed, absorbing its power for his own in greedy lust. And it only grew. His desire for power only grew more and more as the days went onwards, and he began to shut himself off from everyone, including Nevermore. He constantly wore his crown, constantly played with his new found powers and searching for ways to further his electrical abilities. Eventually, the people of Ambrosius started to wonder what happened to their king, and rumors began to spread. Nevermore sought out Caelian in an attempt to ease his misery and grief, but only ended up suffering himself.

For Caelian was lost. The two, once so close, broke out in an argument that trembled in the bones of them both. Nevermore, the just and wise regent he was, straight out told Caelian what he had become, how he never confided in his friends anymore, and how he never needed a little crown on his head before. But facts were no good for Caelian, and only drove his anger and madness. In a frenzy, he banished the only friend he had to the Outlands. For now, he was truly alone.

Further he spiraled into darkness with almost no stop. When Fenrir attacked again, insanity drove him forward with an army to spill the blood of a creature he so desperately hated with all his being. He was so, so angry all the time and wanted to see whatever lay in his path bleed. But on that terrible battlefield, he lost his eye and was forever caught in only being able to see out of one good eye, his other grey and cloudy, mangled by claws. Such a defeat rocked him, and he, for a moment, became scared. Not for himself, but for Ambrosius and his fellow citizens. He was meant to protect them, so as seeing the Great Bear dead on the ice, Caelian called for his army to turn and retreat, saving their lives. He was the last to leave, making sure they were all safe before he himself was saved.

Silence followed the battle, and Caelian ate at his own mind. At the bottom of the abyss he fell into, he tried to run. He tried to escape the clutches of kingdoms and insanity. He ran, ran until he burst from the Bifrost, entering a forest outside the reach of the Slidr Valley. There, he discovered Lunafreya, a fae scared and lost. Something in him melted, and he guided her to safety, to the Valley and through the Bifrost. She was gentle, kind, and seemed to break through whatever craziness he faced. He was like puddy, and she reshaped him into what he was suppose to be when he was around her. They spent many warm nights together until tyranny knocked on their front door.

Caelian hadn’t been expecting it, but a warrior of many generations came to the footholds of his land to take what was rightfully his. She was battle worn, fit in her form of stubbornness and ill-placed greed. Whatever she thought he was, was twisted, and her view of the unicorn only fueled a fire deep in his heart. Her taunts were childish, and her actions avaricious. However, though the fight was bloody and to be remembered, Caelian was defeated. He took Luna to the outskirts of Ambrosius, not knowing what to do, only to discover she was pregnant with twins.

Anon and Gylfie were born in the cold, early morning on the verge of spring. They were perfect in every way to Caelian, angels in the eyes of one who saw nothing but sadness beforehand. What was most special about them were their tiny wings, placed neatly upon their backs. Caelian loved them like nothing else, so as the months passed on, it was hard for him to accept what happened to his family.

His sister Lythe had come to him seeking aid, bringing a child of her own. But this child, Caelian’s own nephew, was darker than the darkest pits of the abyss, and sought only to destroy what was good in this world. He murdered his own mother, letting Caelian hear the screams of his sister before Corvium turned upon Luna, as well. Anon and Gylfie fought their cousin, while Caelian tried his best to defend Luna and lead her to a safe place. But the maddened stallion won, and Anon and Gylfie, barely old enough to begin flying, were felled to the earth. In the end, Corvium was killed by Caelian, but Luna was driven insane by the deaths of her children. After a long period, Caelian found Luna standing on the edge of a cliff, speaking in tongues and murmuring lost promises. He saw the love of his life, the one that had brought him out of insanity, throw herself off a wind blown cliff. He watched as her body sank through the air, breaking upon rocks far, far below, and being swept off into the sea. He was shredded.

Nothing he cared about was left to him, anymore. His entire family had died within a matter of a month, and his heart had shattered into a million pieces. He wished for death and sought after it, but his curse held him tight to the living. Cursed to immortality, to pain and suffering and endless torture. He was broken, and so, he flew. He flew away from his troubles, as he always had before.

N o r d l y s

The broken boy landed in Nordlys on a rainy, cold night. There was not much in the land for him, but Morthalion drew him like a moth to a flame. He had come to seek refuge, to find somewhere to stay while he tried to find his place in the world. He had discovered the land on the tongue of a passerby. The Speak was of a mythical land, a land of lore and stories, as he would soon discover.

He first found himself standing in a Pool of Mirrors, which rather seems like a memory or dream as he looks back upon the moment. He had been told to choose an alignment, a side of a cosmic story to which he would join. The Mother Elephant or Father Tiger, two starry beings that guarded the land with fierce and loving arms. He had rather chose to remain neutral, as he was no longer searching for war. Rather, he had come to discover the life of a wanderer.

The mighty king of the north, dethroned, a broken boy of no status, a boy perfectly carved from rock, blessed by a wandering witch, and overlooked by his society as an imperfect mistake, had wanted to live a normal life.

But normal was no longer written in the stars for Caelian.

He would come to suffer at the hands of his curse, but while in Morthalion, luckily he did not suffer much. Yet, the crowds of endless horses, bodies swaying through the streets at night, haunted him as his curse wore onwards. He would find himself laying awake when everyone else slept soundly. He could hear their laughter, their cries, and their sorrows from miles away. He could smell their fear and their joy. It was overpowering.

But one thing overpowered him the most. His lust. For blood.

It came slowly. A small scratch here, a cut there, but he could sense it all. It drove him insane in a city like Morthalion, and he knew he had to get out before something terrible happened.

Which led him down a rough path of no return.

B i a b e t a l l

When Luna died, Caelian was left with a void in his heart unimaginably empty. A gap has spread across him, and darkness settled over his head. He felt vacant, empty and cold all over, all the time. He ached for his lost mate, and dreamed of her for years until one day, the ache consumed him. In his desperation to fill the yawning hole in his heart, he became a toy for others to use.

As his curse wore on, he became more and more lustful for the things of this world. In the absence of his lover, he fell into the arms of others so deeply and passionately, only to leave them the next morning. As he experienced these desires more and more, his curse started to express itself in turn. Cursed to be forever alone, he was combating the sentence placed upon his own head, and the nature of the curse began to wear its effects on him more and more. He began to lust for the blood of those he spent the night with, unknowingly growing into a monster more and more by the month.

Always a passionate lover, the curse turned him into something ferocious. He would feed on the blood of his partner, causing them to become dreamy and weary before monstrously ripping their throats out by the end of the night, slicing their heads nearly clean off their necks and exposing their dried and greying insides. As more and more reports spread of the monster at night, Caelian began to fear for his life.

For he was not a killer. The curse deep inside of him had morphed a once sweet and innocent boy into a puppet of darkness. As if mind control would take over his body, he would wake up to find decapitated mares lying next to him in bed. Some part of him knew that it was his own doing, while the other side of him fought the truth of his own existence. He became scared of himself, yet at the same time, more and more lustful for blood until the sensation was nearly unbearable.

He ripped apart families, destroyed marriages and ruined relationships all in a mad attempt to get back at the world for the loss of his own family. He became a killer without remorse, a stalker of the night and a nightmare in flesh. He became lost inside of his own head, an empty vessel walking around in a murder’s body.

He knew that one day, no one would be able to hurt him anymore, if only he knew how to control his own emotions. He ripped the city of Biabetall in half, trying to figure out how to control the pain deep down. He knew he was lost, but at some point, he stopped caring.

At that point, he truly became a monster. Different from the one he was in Slidr, where a dark insanity controlled his mind. No, he was truly a beast from a nightmare. He would lead mares astray, taking their lives from them without a second thought, piling bodies up all around the city. And he reveled in the chaos that he created.

Eventually, the city turned on him as they figured out who the murderer was. Assassinations were attempted many times as hunters tracked him, burned him with fire, shot at him and chased him down with dogs, but nevertheless, he prevailed. Eventually, when he had run the city dry of blood and sensations, he decided it was time to move on.

When he left, he was hit with a sudden realization that he truly had become something he was afraid of, something that wasn’t himself. So he lied to himself. He began to tell himself he was not like the others. He wasn’t bloodthirsty, he didn’t crave the sweet tang of iron on his tongue. He lied to himself, over and over and over again before he began to believe it. Eventually, he even lied his way out of being a vampire at all. He started to believe he was cursed to immortality, to watch others die as he lived on forevermore, and to feel as others felt.

In shame and mourning, Caelian retreated deep within himself. He found an old cave system and, with the electrical magic he had learnt, brought the walls down upon himself, trapping himself in. In order to escape further harming others or himself, he sentenced himself to torture. He would rather live 1,000 in starvation than harm another living creature again. He had, too well, known what hurting another can lead to, as some of his best friends died and tore him apart. After a few days, he fell asleep and did not wake up for some two hundred years, becoming the rock he was carved from once again.

T e m e r r

Caelian’s emergence from the cave he trapped himself in was far from his own doing. Exploring the cave in search of fossils, a kitsune named Amerie had discovered his sleeping form. She had awoken him from his sleep and brought him back up to a different world, a world that had lived on without him.

It was hard at first for Caelian to accept being back in the world, and for the longest time, all he did was stare at the different and unique constellations in a night sky that he no longer recognized. It was an odd sensation of loss, as if everything he knew no longer belonged to him. He would only wander outside when it was foggy, and he took it upon himself to live and reside in a ruined castle where he laid out pillows in one fallen tower. Amerie visited him daily to try to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to cause him to come out of his daze. It was hard for him to accept who he was and what he had done to the world. He hated the impression that he left upon this earth, and he feared what reaction others might have to his reappearance. He wondered if there were stories of his existence, legends told around campfires that scared little children from wandering alone at night. These thoughts swarmed his mind like locusts: loud, dark and ominous.

Oftentimes he would tell Amerie the same sentence, once a day: “I want to feel something good.” She would always respond with the same statement, “Your worry does not take away tomorrow’s troubles, Caelian. It takes away your peace today.” Her optimism is what kept him going, if only to stare at the stars.

Eventually, something brought him to finally leave the tower and explore the world once again. He was “trying to be brave,” as he put it simply, so that “others could be brave, as well.” However, every step he took only made his heart cave in. He felt like he was betraying himself, and every time he saw himself in a reflection, all he saw was the monster he had become. This was not who he was meant to be.

He was so young and so doomed. Doomed to be this, forever. Only a boy, and he had become nothing more than a walking carcass. A dead man with nothing to live for. Hunted and haunted by his own past.

Amerie would often speak of him behind his back, worried about his fate. She became very fond of him ever since she found him, and thought the best of him. She would often call him lonely, “lonelier than he even realizes.” Maybe it was pity that made her fond of him, but when he wasn’t in a constant slump, she had found him quite charming and enjoyable to be around.

She took it upon herself to help him move past the villain he thought he had become, and return to the boy she knew he could be. As she invited him more and more out of the confinements of his tower, he began to develop a rather reckless nature, as if he had nothing to live for. He would perform feats that could easily kill him without blinking twice, and Amerie began to wonder if he even cared to live anymore. But she knew she could restore something in his fractured soul, and if it took her a hundred years, she could try to help him through it all.

She started by trying to crack through his shell, a shell that he had built around himself in order to keep himself protected from everyone else around him. She had seen through it in rare moments, when he smiled at a newly memorized constellation or learned a new trick with his magic, which he had recently discovered he had. She was helping him with it as well, a magic that allowed him to manipulate stardust. He once told her he was also able to create electricity at one point, but had lost the power in his self confinement. He said he still felt the spark, however, and that maybe one day, it would return to him.

Amerie began exploring with him. As Caelian was a watcher of stars, Amerie was a tracker of the sun and oftentimes climbed mountains to reach destinations best to chart the path of the sun. She knew the stars would shine brightest in the mountains, so often she would try to get Caelian to come along with her. He would be doubtful at first, but generally would come.

In those times where they spent camping together, she learned how to break through his shell and get him to be the person he once was before everything horrible happened in his life. She could tell he had a large burden resting on his shoulders, but tried to help him forget how heavy it was. She sparked hope in him, even though the spark was dim.

As Amerie soared to new heights in her study of the sun and her scientific discoveries, Caelian quickly became a chore that took up much of the time she needed for research, and though she never complained about him, he could tell he was only in the way. She had already renewed a burst of life within him, and it was a large enough fire to keep him going, so he bid Amerie farewell and left Temerr for new lands.

E d a n a

Caelian’s venture to Edana was an unexpected turn on his life journey. While he had enjoyed the friendship he created with Amerie, it was time she moved on without him and became what she truly needed to be. With him at her side, Amerie could never reach her full potential, so Caelian decided to let her go. He went flying to see what he could find, and the clouds led him to his new destination: Edana.

Without much complaint, Caelian set his hooves down in the Shallows and ventured into the new land, ready to take on a new chapter of his life. He wasn’t expecting much, but maybe he hadn’t completely lost all hope in the world and wondered about new experiences. Amerie had brought that back out in him, and he tried his hardest to not let that tiny spark of hope go. He knew it would be hard, but he would try. He promised her. He couldn’t let that promise go.

Upon his arrival, he had come out of the portal in the shallow waters choking and drowning. His fear of water was like an ever present force, ever since Luna had pitched herself off a cliff into the raging sea below. He hadn’t found much life around him when he ventured to this place, but surely if he had taken more steps into the land, he would’ve found more souls.

He had discovered a great darkness in the land, and retaliation in order to fight such darkness. One such fighter, a young pegasus named Everest, had come across his path in order to share her passion with him. But he had not been swayed. Instead, he ran. Far away from the darkness, scared of its existence and of his past. He ran.

As he always did.

And that’s how he found Nivea.

E b r i a

Even though guilt crept through his heart on turning against the hope Amerie had given him, he was glad he hadn’t spent a longer time in Edana. The darkness that crept across the land made him afraid of losing the fire Amerie had renewed, so he once again travelled to a new place in search of new adventures.

He wasn’t in Ebria long before people began to discover his existence and feared him. Some remembered the tale their ancestors told about a monster in Biabetall, and Caelian’s past once again came to bite him. However, at first he didn’t allow the fact that fear was spreading across the land in association with his face, but soon the fact played a bit with his emotions. He began to only come out at night, when most were asleep, and wandered where no one else thought to go.

Eventually, hunters and assassins came to track him down and try to bring him to be hung in public, where all could witness the vampire of legend finally brought down. However, for many years, he went unscathed. The bounty on his head rose, and academies that taught hunting became obsessed with teaching their students how to kill Caelian. If someone could bring him in, all others would be much less difficult, they said.

No one was talented enough to combat his power in sorcery and might, not until Nivea. Strangely, the two were connected in a way that prevented one from harming the other. Neither could kill the other, so after a moment of strange battle, she caught him and chained him to her, bringing him in for execution.

Yet, he escaped. The wild goose chase began, where they would track each other and escape with near-death experiences, until at one point, something clicked between them both. Even though they were sworn enemies, they had both taken a strange liking to one another. And after so long, Caelian felt something real inside of him. Something like love.

At first it drove him insane. He didn’t want to get involved with others. He hadn’t ever since Biabetall, but now he was falling again and he didn’t know how to react to it. He tried being cold and selective to her, but when she started to fall away, his heart couldn’t bear her retreating. So they danced for each other's hearts, around and around but never truly becoming in sync. It was hard to tell whether they were flirting or fighting. They were fascinated by each other, but forbidden to be in love. But forbidden love was the best kind to chase after, and they couldn’t help but slip down the path together. He was cold before, but whenever she was close, he felt home.

S o v e r e i g n

They left Ebria together to escape the strict rules of a hunter’s code. Even though they weren’t mates, they did have a spark with each other that would be hard to break. They were safe with each other when the world turned against them, and fled together when the path became risky. Finding Sovereign, they agreed to start fresh and try to rebuild themselves out of the mold they were grown in. They both found a desire to discover something beyond the daily lives they had lived, and their passion for renewal far outweighed their nostalgia for their past lives. And together, they bloomed. After many long moons, they decided to journey further west, where they may find a new adventure awaiting them. However, on this journey they were separated in a horrible storm. To this day, Caelian still searches for her tirelessly, which led him to stumble across the lands of Uncharted.

U n c h a r t e d

-- coming soon

Asterokinesis, Cosmic Manipulation, or most commonly known as simply Astero, is the ability to manipulate stars and the space around a star. With this ability, cosmic abilities are easily affected and bended to the user's will.

Caelian is able to bend the light of the sun and communicate with the stars, allowing him to move them or manipulate their energies. He is able to create a "force fields" of cosmic energies around himself, which block certain energies (other magics) when he holds it at a strong enough capacity. He is able to bend light in order to flicker in and out of visibility. With cosmic energies, he can lift small, light objects. The energy of the cosmics also allow him to defy gravity and levitate. When focused extremely hard, he can cause meteor showers, and he is hyper-aware of the stars in the galaxies near him. He can feel their energies and their pulses.

Weaknesses:
1) Caelian, having a sorcery that comes from the light of the stars, is, ironically, susceptible to the magic of darkness. If a dark spell is thrown his way, or if he is the point of a purely dark magic, he will be severely weakened. Due to the fact that he himself is not very stable, he cannot keep his light magic strong against pressing darkness.
2) Caelian is also susceptible to water magic. The magic of stars is a burning, bright magic, but if enough water is poured upon it, that burning light may go out.
3) Asterokinesis is an extremely difficult magic to master, and cosmic energies are dense and heavy. They take an overall toll on Caelian when he uses certain magic, and he becomes tired quickly. Overuse can lead Caelian to be trapped in a limbo state of mind; a coma he may never wake up from.

caelian has silver tears silver blood, not red
he has a lightly defined british accent
the whites of his eyes are purple/black
he is a cursed vampire, still living but immortal like a vampire
because of his curse, his state of mind is as if he is 18 years old (human years)

moodboard
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All Images from Unsplash