Subdued whispers echoed through the Court of Shadows as her citizens gathered around the font. It was a day of culmination, of years of experimentation and consultation, and yet none were sure of the final result. But Hashan stood as one in their quest to unveil the stars once more.

Under the direction of Regent Asmodron, with tokens and offerings to the Gods, they took their places. Scattered at their feet were constellations they sought, and within their minds the words they would call forth into the darkened skies.

Beneath the undulating glow of a Font empowered, Serenova, a sidereal scholar, stepped forth with soft and solemn voice.

"It is time to give voice and vision to the grief of the Gods."

Scholarly curiosity and scientific experimentation would not be enough. The stars were not broken. They needed neither repair nor cure. This shroud was a shroud of grief. Faith needed walk where naught else could tread, and so their beacon surged to life within an empty sky.

Had their voices been heard?

The palpable silence yawned for a momentary eternity, when suddenly, a silken voice gently echoed within the darkness, "It is time We cast off the shroud."

Twilight entreated His Siblings to heed the petition of the Court of Shadows, yet the voice of Darkness was not alone. Some questioned. Others reflected. Yet more held peace. Elder to Younger considered Their fallen Brother. It was perhaps a rallied call of Dream that brought the Pantheon into accord: it was time to move forward.

First one by one as glimmers in the eyes of God and mortal alike, then by the hundreds and finally the thousands, the long-unseen stars at last revealed themselves in a show of scintillating splendour that no mere memory could equate, filling the cosmos with a blinding procession of celestial light as they tumbled and waltzed across all the worlds' skies.

With the fulminous clap of His colossal wings beating thunderously against the firmament, the Skylord rent the newly lit dark with the fury of His motion, reigniting waking stars and ordering them back into ordained alignment within the endless Dance of the Vault.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: Hashan performs a ritual to urge the Gods toward closure in the ongoing lament for Khalas, seeking to unveil the stars once again.

Penned by My hand on the 3rd of Sarapin, in the year 950 AF.