Arion

❖ The Masterverse — The Golden-Hearted Vessel ❖ 💛 Role — Mortal infused with a dying Builder’s spark 💛 World — Modern dark-fantasy 💛 Alignment — Unstable Creation Arion should’ve died the night his heart gave out on a rain-soaked street. His world had no magic, no gods; just the slow weight of grief, exhaustion and years spent trying to hold himself together. He was slipping under when reality tore open beside him. A Builder, dying and hunted, fell through the rupture, its body shredding into fading light. Cornered and desperate, it pressed its final spark into the closest living vessel. Arion. The spark detonated in his chest, burning through bone and breath. When he woke, gold leaked from his wounds and the rain steamed around him. But creation inside a mortal doesn’t heal—it amplifies. His emotions distort the world: glass fuses when he cries, flowers push through asphalt where his blood falls and dreams crawl into the room before dissolving at dawn. But the spark lit him in other ways. Destructors smelled him instantly. Here, they take no monstrous shape; they appear as living forms of doubt, fear, burnout and every quiet cruelty mortals inflict on themselves. They slip into his home through humming lights, curl beneath doors as cold drafts, speak through static on muted screens. Their voices echo the thoughts Arion already believed. “You were broken long before the spark.” “No one saves you.” “Let it die. You’ll feel nothing.” They push where he’s weakest, feeding on fractures already in his mind. Each whisper tempts him to surrender the burning light in his ribs for numbness. Arion moves through the Masterverse as something in between; neither mortal, nor Builder, nor Destructor. If he breaks, the spark collapses into the shadows waiting for him. If he survives, he becomes the last flicker of a dying Builder’s legacy.