The Fallen Stars delighted in their time among the Aeltharians, dwelling as leaders, teachers, guardians, and beloved companions through the passing centuries. Their presence alone held demonkind at bay, driving them into the shadows and halting their assaults upon mankind, granting respite and time for healing. It was their descent that stirred the world to life once more, allowing the Aeltharians to flourish, to cherish the enchanted realm of their birth, and to embrace the magic and joy that stirred within their very souls.
Yet such joy bore a price, for the immortal do not walk long among mortals without sorrow. Elves who chose to dwell among the short-lived witnessed their companions grow old, fade, and pass beyond the veil, reborn into forms unknown. Many felt the ache of loss as dear friends and kin grew frail with age, shadows of their youthful selves, though graced with divine wisdom. The Fallen Stars had known this fate would come, warned by the Goddess of Creation, yet foreknowledge could not dull the pain. To watch those beloved wither amidst a world so radiant, timeless, and glowing with such beauty, this was a wound even the immortal ones could scarcely bear.
Those most deeply marked by this sorrow were the half-elves, born of both mortal and immortal blood. At the age of eight, they were given a sacred choice: to walk among the Children of the Goddess, the immortal elves, or remain with the Children of the World, the mortal Aeltharians. Those who chose immortality would retain their youthful form, gaining great wisdom unmeasured by time, but at the cost of endless partings and farewells. When the weight of years becomes too great, they might return to the Heavens and shine among the stars. Those who chose mortality would slowly grow into the strength of their middle years, living full lives until their end. In death, they would pass on, to be reborn once again as mortals once more, changed in name, in form, in fate, yet ever bound to the endless cycle of the world.
In 931 A.E., the elves gathered in the heartlands of the Core, a convocation of the Fallen Stars beneath the twilight boughs. There, they spoke of long ages passed, recounting tales of wonder and woe. Though many tales were touched with joy, most turned to sorrow, the fading of mortal friends, the parting of beloved companions, and the quiet grief that time alone bestows. Thus did the elves share their heavy burden, a sorrow not easily spoken, yet deeply and quietly understood by all who dwell in the light of the stars.
Amidst their number were the half-elven, children of two realms, flesh of the world and spirit of the heavens, gathered in hope of close kinship and understanding. Many among them chose the path of mortality, to walk as Aeltharians and live out their years in the fleeting beauty of a mortal life. A few embraced the immortal road, remaining beside their elven kin in their ageless grace. Though bonds of affection endured, discord was thoroughly known: some mourned the brief years of their mortal brethren, while others could not grasp the burden of unending days. For the immortals, death held no final claim; when fallen, they returned to the Heavens, resting seven years before their stars realigned. Then they descended again, unchanged. Though they could never truly die, the cost was great. Yet even in sorrow, they cherished memories: the laughter of children, the faces of the departed, the warmth of love beneath moonlit skies. In remembrance, they carried both grief and grace, a starlight that quietly endured even as all else faded.
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Thus the elves toiled not alone in craft, but in song and scroll, that memory might not fade. They inscribed the moments that shaped their days, joys and sorrows, triumphs and tears alike. These were no dry chronicles, but living truths, for the elves had witnessed all with their own eyes. Yet still grief lingered, like a shadow at dusk, for the passing of a single life, brief though it be, left marks that time could never erase. And so the divine elves made a solemn choice, one to change the very fate of the world: to leave Aeltharia and return unto the Heavens. Their labors fulfilled, the world at last made whole, and now it was time to journey home in peace and remembrance.
However, there were hundreds who would not depart, who believed their duty was not yet done, that they should remain, to guide the mortals in their need, as teachers and protectors. These became The Vaeleri, known as the Descenders, who chose to stay tethered to the magical world of Aeltharia. Saint Aurelyn the Radiant was counted among their most beloved. Those who returned to or remained in the Heavens were known as The Astrael, the Ascenders, who chose to watch from afar as life unfolded in freedom. Yet though divided in path, the Vaeleri were ever welcome still to rejoin the Astrael, and take their rightful place among the stars eternal and undying.
Thus, the Race of Elves have been divided between the Astrael and the Vaeleri. In 999 A.E., The Final Farewell begins with the elves who wish to return to the Heavens as the Astrael saying their farewells to those who wish to remain in Aeltharia as the Vaeleria. It is a final goodbye as it won’t be until thousands or if not millions of years for their reunion. The event is marked with tragedy but none of the elves from both sides would stop the other from choosing the one path they wish to take for the rest of eternity.
The Astrael are a race of celestial elves whose ethereal beauty seems woven from the very fabric of the night sky. Their deep indigo-blue skin glimmers with constellations and flecks of starlight, as though the cosmos have taken root in their form. Silver-white hair flows like moonlight, framing faces graced with violet-pink eyes that glow with quiet intensity. Elegant, pointed ears extend from beneath radiant hair, completing their otherworldly presence. They wear midnight-blue robes trimmed with intricate golden patterns that echo the celestial designs on their skin, often fastened with star-shaped brooches set with violet gems. Their garments shimmer like scattered starlight and living constellations. In stillness, the Astrael radiate serene grace, their gaze filled with ancient wisdom and deep, timeless, quiet, gentle, calm, and warm affection for all that surrounds them.
The Vaeleri are a race of terrestrial elves of extraordinary beauty, grace, and timelessness, appearing both ancient and youthful. Tall and lithe, they move with an ethereal elegance, as if in perfect harmony with the living world. Their features are finely sculpted, high cheekbones, radiant eyes that glint like starlight or sunlight on water, and hair that flows like silk. A Vaeleri’s appearance reflects their surroundings: their skin tone changes with the region they inhabit, sun-bronzed in deserts, mossy in forests, or pale as frost in the far north. Their eye, hair, and clothing colors mirror their elemental affinity: fiery hues for flame, deep greens for earth, pale blues for air, shimmering silvers for water, and more. They carry an aura of sorrow, wisdom, and nobility, as if they remember the very first songs of the world.
