The Grey Sect and the Threads of Fate*
Within the endless corpse of the Titan. A Cosmic being so powerful whose decaying form had birthed a whole infinity-universe inside his corpse, the remnants of divine power lingered in every breath of existence. Nebulae bloomed in the marrow of bones, constellations spun within collapsed organs, and Alien races born from the cosmic energy of the Titans carved civilizations into the calcified veins of a god.
In this strange world, time was pulsing everywhere. Life here was born of death, and power came not from ambition, but from harmony with the slumbering force of the dead Titan. The Alien races used cosmic energy of the Titans to cultivate in search of power and unity.
Ashur-ll'Zhara, the *Primordial Elder God of Fate*, descended silently into this world — cloaked, his true essence sealed, taking a form that none would suspect. When he peered into fate of this universe he saw that different alien species lived in harmony, cultivating in peace in their search for immortality but that was before the rise of the dark king.
The dark king rose from unknown killing all his original specie to remain alone. Amassing demonic armies with the aim to exterminate all life in the universe with no reason. This caused a war to erupt with the dark king's power seemingly endless causing the peace to end.
Deciding to stop, Ashur-ll'Zhara chose to look like one of the Grey aliens, an ancient, long-lived species with enormous eyes, elongated skulls, and a culture built entirely around cultivation through cosmic resonance in order to walk among these alien species.
He walked into the mountain monastery of the *Sect of SeleZu*, . There, the Greyborn studied the waves of energy that still radiated from the Titan's remains. They harvested soul-essence from starlight dripping through bone caverns, cultivated resonance with the Titan's aura, and sought a peaceful immortality — not by conquest, but by shedding attachment.
Ashur-ll'Zhara lived among them as *Zhar*, a quiet, curious outsider with no formal training, yet an instinct for weaving energy flows and guiding others. He watched and waited. Each moment revealed something deeper.
*Fate here was fragile.* Every decision a Greyborn made — to ascend faster, to ignore the path of another, to choose silence when a warning was needed — echoed into their futures like ripples through glass. Ashur didn't interfere, not yet. He needed to observe fate moving on its own.
The elders believed the *Dark King* and his corrupted demonic army were distant — a threat for the outer realms. This sect was hidden, protected by deep folds in the Titan's bones, far from the battlefield. Their peace was a fragile illusion.
Ashur meditated beside them, shaped energy with them, watched the young ones stumble and rise. He laughed quietly with old mystics who saw him as a kind but odd novice. Elders growing fond of him for his intelligence.
And still, Ashur watched.
He saw *little threads*: a young grey *Tirn*, who would one day become a brilliant sage — or a betrayer. A master, *Juzari*, whose compassion led him to hide forbidden knowledge. All of them danced on the edge of countless destinies.
*Ashur didn't change them.* He simply observed, traced the outcomes, and began to understand the flow of fate in this sealed pocket of existence.
But he had learned what he came for: that *fate was not always about power or battle*. Sometimes, fate was in the choices made at dusk. In kindness unspoken. In warnings ignored.
In the heart of the *Sect of SeleZu*, hidden deep within the ribcage of the dead Titan, peace still lingered like the fading echo of a song. But Ashur-ll'Zhara — walking hidden as the quiet Greyborn novice *Zhar* — knew the silence would not last. Not with fate tightening like a web around the bones of gods and the dark king's threat.
He spent his days among the disciples, his presence calm, his words few. But he watched. Learned. And through the veil of time and destiny, he began to see threads that mattered.