𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃; ʜᴘ (𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃)

𝟏𝟏𝟑; ᴀ ғᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴀ ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ

THE QUEEN OF FALLEN STARS,
Lobelia Heliotrope Morgenstern.

She stands tall and proud, with the poise and grace of a true aristocrat. Her hair is a cascade of dark waves, shimmering in the sunlight and framing her sharp features. Her eyes are a piercing heliotrope of her namesake.

She moves with the effortless grace of a dancer, her steps light and sure. She commands attention wherever she goes, her presence filling the room. She is the embodiment of elegance and sophistication, a true lady in every sense of the word.

Whose radiance once graced the heavens with the brilliance of the sun. Her presence was a celestial symphony, a cosmic dance of light and energy that enraptured all who gazed upon her. Her beauty was unmatched, her power unrivaled, and her grace unparalleled.

Many vied for her attention, drawn to her like moths to a flame. Yet she always remained aloof, a regal figure above the fray. For Lobelia was not just a woman, she was a legend, a myth, a symbol of all that was great and powerful in the world. She shone like the sun, lighting the way for those who would come after her.

Yet all things must come to an end.

Alas her light was extinguished in a final blaze of glory, and with her passing. For she blazed with a brilliance that outshone entire galaxies, her light illuminating the darkness of the cosmos in a dazzling display of power and beauty. Yet as quickly as it had appeared, her light faded, and all that remained was a vast, empty void, a nebula of darkness in the form of a black hole.

The universe was plunged into darkness. The void that remained in the wake of her demise was a gaping maw that devoured all it touched. The stars themselves trembled at the sight of it, and the very fabric of reality seemed to fray and unravel in its presence.

The black hole was a massive, invisible force, its gravity so strong that not even light could escape its grasp. It was a portal to another dimension, a gateway to the unknown, a place where time and space were warped and twisted beyond recognition.

Though even in its darkness, the black hole held a strange allure, drawing in matter from its surroundings and consuming it with a hunger that knew no bounds. It was a reminder of the awesome power of the universe, a symbol of the endless cycle of birth and death that governed the cosmos.

As the eons passed, the black hole continued to grow, its hunger never sated, its power never diminished. Even in its vastness, it remained a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things, a reminder of the infinite expanse of the universe and the wonders that lay beyond our understanding.

Lobelia Morgenstern, the Blacksun.

A blazing light among her people, who had led them through battles and war, shining with a brilliance that had inspired them to victory.

Her power and influence stretching across the cosmos. Then, in a final burst of energy, she erupted in a hypernova of triumph, her people cheering and celebrating her victory.

For a brief moment, Lobelia blazed with a brilliance that outshone even everything and everyone, her light illuminating the darkness of her people's struggle in a dazzling display of power and beauty. Yet as quickly as it had appeared, the light faded, and all that remained was a vast, empty void, a nebula of darkness in the form of a queen's throne— her throne.

The throne was a massive, silent monument to her reign, a symbol of her power and her people's devotion. It was a portal to another world, a gateway to the unknown, a place where she spirit lived on, guiding her people from beyond the veil.

Yet even in her absence, she held a strange allure, her memory drawing her people to her throne, where they would pay their respects and honor her legacy. She was a reminder of the power of leadership, a symbol of the endless cycle of birth and death that governed the lives of all.