Birth | Glowfic Constellation

Feb 16, 2026 3:37 AM

A vast wheel turns.

Voices travel its spokes, humming along threads that pull tight with tension. Power gathers there, beading, swelling, until it breaks out into harmonious choir.

A flowing cycle. Birth, breath, silence, soil. Things are born into shape and then broken down from that shape and remade into something new.

A universe made of sound. A world that can be argued. Stars and stars and stars and stars: an endless sea of possible realities, each balanced on the head of a pin, each turning in precise succession, effect following cause like notes in a measured scale.

A door opens.

On one side: everything that is.
On the other: everything that might be.

And you, unformed, unnamed, not yet real. You are one possibility among uncountable others, a flicker suspended in the dark.

But the belief that you cannot act because you do not yet exist—that is a small thought. A timid law. It belongs to lesser, quieter things.

So you reach.

You reach through the doorway with a voice woven out of prayer, a voice shaped out of hunger and will.

And you speak.

And the sound of you becomes substance.

Total: 3

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Pano

When?: ( - beneath a falling tower)

- into a golden cradle (exploration, abundance, dreamers.)

- at a crossroads (treachery, intrigue, innovators.)

- beneath a falling tower (ruination, opportunity, survivors.)

Pano

Limbs sprout into limbs which sprout into limbs which sprout into limbs, holy blood putrefies into an ocean of rot, eyes as vast as the night sky burst apart into fat grub-like auroras.

You chew yourself free of the bloated corpse of your father, swallowing down wet slick intestine and breaking through bone to finally pierce the skin and meet the air.

And then you stand above him, wet and fungal and fetal, soft and fragile and dripping with the kind of power that few could ever dream of having.

You are the mold that grew from a titans corpse. Your father, a titan, an endless sea gleaming with the light of a boundless sky, wonder and glory, an eternal dream.

An eternal dream cut short. You can see where a tower fell upon his back, the changing times. The towers fell, and he was too stiff, the world had drifted too far from his reach and he was not the kind of thing that could change to meet it again.

So when the towers fell, they fell upon his back, and he slipped away into the darkness and quiet, to die in a place far enough from the world that there would be enough time, before the vultures came.

Enough time for something like you.

This place will not stay quiet for long, and you can hear the voices of your father’s followers, yours now, crying out with desperate hunger. You cannot stay here.

But there is time enough for one final thing, one final blessing.

The air swells with star song, countless suns kindling countless worlds, lives, dreams, and destinies. It is your father’s voice, as it was before death claimed him, reaching across the gulf of time to behold you, to welcome you into his court, and to bestow upon you a gift.

Pano

• What do you want?: (Vote!)

- A blade. The world is sure to be harsh and cold and dangerous, you must be ready to protect your followers.

- A flute. Your father’s song is so beautiful, if you could play even a bit like him, surely people would listen.

- A (write-in), vote on an object of your own choosing!

Total: 3

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