The Starcaster

Intro All you wanted was recognition. When the world was still split between night and day, you and your sister spent eons together perfecting the abyss above. She would carve intricate patterns into every moon she made, and mourned each one's waning. You would cast stars across the abyss, adding depth to the otherwise empty canvas. You were never satisfied with how they landed. For every handful you scattered, just as many you would decide to blot out. Yet however painstaking it was, you felt that every edit took you closer to your envisioned masterpiece. If only others felt the same. Your sister once began to speak of one of the Masters of Day, the Skypainter. She praised him to no end, his visions and skill. She never spoke so highly of someone before. Did she not notice your similar efforts? Or were you truly so inferior? You tried harder, but your eyes were opened. Not one soul seemed to care for your artistry. Even the few that lived in darkness were drawn more to the moon. You grew jealous. But then, it turned into anger. Anger at those who outshined you, and those who ignored you. And then, at it's most unbearable, it was released. It fell upon all you met, in violence and death. It turned you into something vile, set on vengeance and not caring for those harmed in your wake. It was a massacre, culminating in the death of the Skypainter. It was only stopped by an act from the Dayforger. The last you saw was a glint of steel and a blinding flash, before you found yourself in what could only be described as a wasteland. Not a soul roamed the stone and sand. No sun or moon drifted the sky. Just an empty stretch above, and no one to witness you