Sunlight caressed Irwyn’s skin as he lay in the scorching sand. As far as eye could see there was only the desert; except at the horizons where mountains of glass stood, closing the entire valley in. The light of the 2 stars overhead reflected off of them, turning the entire region so hot some of the sand had melted into glass. That only amplified the extremely intense light, dense enough that it seemed almost physical, that is if one had what it took to not be completely blinded.

It was obviously a very comfortable place for Irwyn.

He stared at the skies throughout the day and throughout the night, for longer than he cared to count. But that was fine. He had all the time he could ever wish for. And wasn’t time quite an excellent thing? Perhaps third only behind Lumen’s light and Ignis’ flame.

It was during one such day that a mortal entered the desert. Irwyn felt him from a hundred miles away, such was his presence. Not quite what he would call powerful, but on the brink of greatness. For days that wanderer traversed the harsh wasteland of sand and glass, not stopping to rest even at nights. With purpose they marched until they arrived at Irwyn’s place of rest. Seeing such determination, Irwyn awarded him a glance and a welcoming smile, just like his Mother always would.

“He who wanders shall find and thus you stand before me,” Irwyn proclaimed, people like theatrics “What does your soul desire that it would walk this desert without a second’s respite?”

“Guidance, Named one,” the gnarled elderly man answered with a kowtow. Such was the way of these lands, thus Irwyn did not mind. “9 decades ago I have come to this place with my master as he had once with his own. On a pilgrimage to witness a Star in flesh. Back then my teacher was not worthy of your attention and it fills me with humility that I am. My whole life I have dedicated to understanding the stars and suns above. For 3 decades now I have reached the zenith of mortal flesh yet never have I found that final spark. As I approach the end of my natural life I have remembered your form from all those years ago and came seeking guidance.”

“I see!” Irwyn laughed. “It is good to see children with ambition. Indeed, I can feel the Starfire churning within your very soul, pleading for that one final leap. To claim the great honour. So show me then, the deepest heart of your magic and I shall tell you what is it that you lack!”

“Then see the culmination of my life. My magnum opus of magic:

Across the hills broken,

among children and men

such words were unspoken then

that would bind the very Light;

eternal and bright.

Like the stars beyond my head.

And such was their dread

that the very Flame

they would try to tame.

By them torn

I will have sworn

to yearn

and burn,

that I would never run,

Be Like The Sun”

And the magic danced. Millions of rays intertwined with thousands of intentions and hundreds of concepts into a canvas of the man’s very soul. Irwyn followed their complex patterns and impossible geometry as they manifested along the chant. Just as the final word fell it all collapsed onto itself, merging into the man’s very being.

And the effect was immediate.

The air boiled and sand combusted. The blindingly bright desert valley was somehow outshined by the sheer intensity of what stood there now. The man’s skin was flowing like plasma, his eyes taking celestial brilliance. And in those eyes was made bare the passion and desire. To learn and understand. To truly yearn and burn. For even if the spell spanned at most a few miles, even if it lasted for just a few moments, the man had truly become like a living star. Well, almost.

“Exceptional,” Irwyn smiled as the magic gradually faded out. He, of course, did not burn. “Among the many mortals, I have not yet seen one create such an interwoven spellcraft. Truly, in sheer power it may perhaps surpass some of the lesser Edicts. And yet it is wrong.”

“Wrong?” the man repeated, a bit of sweat on his face from the effort.

“Indeed. You understand much of how stars scorch, how they incinerate and melt. But that is not all they do. Because without one more thing, even if that thing is so minute it will not change anything, it cannot be called a star. Do you understand what you are missing?”

“No,” the man shook his head after a few minutes of thought. Perhaps with that hint, he could have figured it out eventually but Irwyn was in a pleasant mood. It was always pleasing to meet a fellow beloved of the skies, no matter how petty they were.

“Look above us then. What do you see?”

“The two suns of our world.” the man answered after a short deliberation, deciding that Irwyn would not mean the clouds.

“Almost but still wrong, just like your magic,” Irwyn shook his head instead, pointing upwards. “The large one is the Sun of your realm. From when the first stalk of grass sprung he has watched. Every harvest and every tree had come and gone under his vigil. Under his care. For that is what the Sun are: Guardians and caretakers. Albeit at times they bring death, in the end, they do care. It would not surprise me if he knew you by name,” Irwyn chuckled and shifted his finger to the other one. “She, on the other hand, belongs to the Sol. A wanderer with no realm to call her own, resting here and there for a few centuries at a time, only ever as long as the Sun finds them desirable upon their firmament. In a way, she is like you: Full of scorching ambition. But unlike you, she does have that small shard of something. You see, stars are Flame and Light. You understand well what The-flame-that-is-origin brings, however, you must not forget that Lumen too is part of every star, no matter how distant to your own path. Do you now understand what you lack?”

“My Starfire… it must have some of that nourishing care,” the man nodded, visibly suppressing the smile creeping upon his lips. And Irwyn could tell that now he would without a doubt claim one for himself.

“It need not be much. Just a thousandth of a thousandth of a percent is enough, perhaps even less. So little it will not change the efficacy of your magic. But it must be there, always and forever. Such is the nature of stars.”

“Thank you, my path is bright once more,” the man kowtowed once more. Then curiosity entered his eyes. “But if you wouldn’t take offence, I wish to ask one thing: Are you too then of the Sol?”

“Hah,” Irwyn couldn’t help but chuckle at the question, the man taking no offence and patiently awaiting an answer. “No, for I have no need for a star of my own for a simple reason... Actually, perhaps it is better if I show you. It may also help her.”

“The Sol above us?” the mage remembered Irwyn’s earlier words.

“Yes. In a way, she is much like you. Also seeking a Name of her own. Except she does not have the mortal privilege of claiming one.”

“Do those born immortal need to follow a different path?”

“Yes. What she must do is a feat nigh impossible in a single mortal lifespan, or in a hundred. She must forge a Name from naught. I have seen her wandering Lightmother’s skies many times before. She too may be close. So I will show it to you both: The paragon which you pursue.” Irwyn stood up and flexed his hand. The magic came to him naturally for it was his nature as much as the magic’s nature was him. He needed not a long chant for that suggested effort. He needed not speak the words for them to resound as they were the Truth.

In my Name

beneath Light’s skies

I proclaim

AN EDICT OF STARS

And a bubble rose from his palms, ascending into the skies above. All light dimmed, all flames flickered. For just a moment that blindingly bright desert darkened. And then it all erupted anew as the Edict’s magic shone, outdoing in a flash what the stars above could from such a distance. Then it rose further and further, until the very skies changed.

For now there shone three brilliant orbs instead of two. Three stars.

“You… created a star,” the mortal man gaped.

“Such is the power of greater Edicts,” Irwyn nodded. “Albeit it is not a true star yet for it lacks a soul of its own. But that will come naturally with time, just as ______ has designed. Until then your Sun will look after the shell. Thought that also means that he will ask the Sol to leave as few Realms are meant to withstand the shine of three stars,” just as he said that it indeed happened. The star of Sol shrank and seemingly fell out of the skies. In its descent, it headed directly towards them. “Or I suppose she will come to greet me first.”

“Salutations from one of Sol to one of the Skybringers, albeit I know not your Name,” the voice sounded first, the star itself gone, obscured; instead a lone figure descended. She looked much like a human, or more accurately, humans looked much like her. She carried with her intangible, almost disturbing beauty. A keen observer would realise that she was perfectly symmetrical; not just her features or build but down to every single last strand of her long hair, every smidgen of dust on her face, even the very wind split perfectly around her. Such was the nature of the Name she sought to forge. Her appearance as a thin young woman was a choice Irwyn did not particularly care about.

“No need to bother with titles,” Irwyn flashed a circle of starfire in a common greeting as he chuckled. “If everyone bothered to name them all I would lose half a day each time I spoke with someone. But no matter, now that you are here, perhaps the both of you have an opportunity. A mortal man and an Empyrean, both on the cusp of greatness. Talk and perhaps you shall learn something from one another. Or perhaps not. That is up to you. As for me, I have enjoyed this place long enough. Yes, I think I will go there next,” he raised his hand, snapping his fingers. The two opened their mouths to ask him something but he had spoken exactly as much as he had meant to. So a brilliant flash of light enveloped him, distinct even in the blinding desert.

And in that flash he stood in a verdant gorge, a river flowed beneath giving life to untouched wildlife and relatively ancient oak trees. It was also indescribably far away from the desert, in a completely different realm.

All skies were his domain after all. And wherever there were skies he too could tread unhindered.

He lied down and looked at the skies above. A single Sun waited there, it too was unique. Then the night came and all the constellations were different. Or more accurately viewed from a different angle. Different perspective. Irwyn would keep looking for as long as he cared to.