Tucked away in a large mansion, an elven man works in a large room. He draws intricate circles and stars on the floor  of his workspace in a golden sort of paint, chanting under his breath. He stands tall, setting the paint aside to view his work, still chanting. A starmap now sits in the middle of the large atrium, taking up most of the floor. The skylight above shows the fading light of twin suns, setting over mountains far beyond his manor. He moves gracefully, stepping over glittering golden lines to the middle of the room. His chanting ceases when he stops, standing in a small circle.

"I pledge myself to the stars, to those above. I give you my being, in exchange for your power and warmth." He begins, grabbing the intricate necklace that sits on his neck. It glitters and glows as he speaks, emanating a strong purple glow. "I give myself to you entirely, work through me for your needs. I am but your servant." A bright beam of deep blue light suddenly strikes the necklace he holds, and it floats now, free in the air in front of him. The golden paints begin to lift from the floor, curling upwards, becoming small, genuine stars instead of paintings of them. They orbit the man in the middle of the room. "Channel your power through me, from now until the end of time, I am yours!" As he finishes speaking, the light bursts from the amulet, engulfing the entire room.

He is burning. Miomek can feel it, deep within. The stars have accepted his offer, and within him now rests it. But a mortal form is far too weak to contain such power. It burns him from the inside, rapidly. His humanity is stripped from him by force, skin, hair and muscle disappear, burning away. His body is lifted from the ground, suspended in the air. He wants to scream out in pain, but he has no lungs to do so. There is nothing left of the elven man, once known as Miomek but bones, and a smouldering suit. The stars about him vanish, as does the golden paint. The glow from his amulet remains, wrapping around his form gently. You have done us well, Child of The Stars. It is not a voice, but he can hear it all the same. Our power is yours, use it wisely. He is set down on the floor, and the light washes over him once more. His blackened suit is replaced in a flash of blue and gold, wrapping him in a new suit, seemingly made of the night sky. Weakly, he stands, feeling a rush of new power stir within him.

You are our first, Child of The Stars. go forth. Embrace the world with your new perspective.
For us.