The Blood of the Stars are born under alien constellations—children of collapsing suns, lost gods, drifting planar anomalies, or stellar events too strange to name. Their power hums with the cadence of the void, echoing across realms both charted and forgotten. They don’t cast spells so much as bend the firmament around their will, pulling starlight, gravity, and time into their grasp.
Those of this lineage are often marked by subtle distortions: eyes that reflect unfamiliar constellations, voices that echo faintly in dead languages, or skin that flickers with the sheen of cosmic dust. When they wield power, the air bends with it—shimmering light curves inward, constellations briefly appear in their shadow, and their spells leave trails like comets in motion. Their presence brings a subtle stillness, like the silence of space pressing against the edge of sound.
Far beyond any map, in a crater carved into the sky itself, lies the Dome of Nyxhalas—an observatory long abandoned by mortals and now haunted by silence, gravity-locked relics, and scholars made from starlight. It is here that the Starblooded gather. They chart planes not by geography but by gravitational pull, and study spells like one might study dark matter—by absence, by anomaly, by what refuses to be understood. There, they learn to pull magic not from leylines, but from the great orbits that bind all things.
To a Starblooded sorcerer, reality is thin and filled with cracks—threads stretched across too many planes, tugged by unseen stars. They do not follow the rules of terrestrial mages. They warp time to strike before thought. They bend distance, crush mass, and wield radiant power that predates the gods. Whether calling down comets, unraveling gravity, or stepping through light itself, they remind the world that its sky is not the top—it is the beginning.