Aletheos Starborne

They called him many names—Starseer, Lightbearer, Truthsinger—but none could agree on what he truly was. Some said he was older than the first sunrise, others swore he was the last scholar of a forgotten order. Beneath the wide brim of his moonlit hat, lime-green eyes glowed like lanterns in fog, unblinking, unyielding. His long white beard flowed like a waterfall of silver frost, and his coat—stitched from night itself—was heavy with a thousand shimmering stars, each one said to hold a truth he had unearthed. When he walked, constellations shifted across the fabric, whispering in patterns no mortal tongue could name. He did not speak to please. His words were rivers, clear and cold, cutting through the mountains of illusion in a single breath. Those who came before him seeking comfort left with revelations instead—some blessings, some burdens, all unshakably true. It was said that when he fixed his gaze upon you, the world itself grew still, as if reality waited for his judgment. And when he spoke, it was not prophecy. It was the truth the universe had been holding in silence… until that moment