The Astralis

Months of the year

Diademus - Hart, Oathstone, Persuasion
Ashkar - Crow, Ashglass, Smokestone, Survival
Virellis - Otter, un-precious stones, Insight
Gilwreath - Fox, Gold, Sleight of Hand, Deception
Bastyr - Bull, Steel, Athletics
Felaryn - Owl, Taerine, Perception
Kharvek - Badger, Iron and claws, Crafting, Investigation
Caltheris - Raven, Xlarkot, History, Politics
Elarion - Wolf, Shale, Intimidation
Ceren - Rabbit, Mana Clover, Arcana
Arynvae - Spider, Moonsilk, darkwood, acrobatics
Vaelcor- Stoat or Ferret, aetherpine, goodberries, resource gathering
Nireval - Bear, featherburn, progress or resolution

Diademus - The Crownbound

In the Astralis, Diademus rises first each year, a tight circlet of steady stars arranged with unnatural symmetry. Unlike other signs that shimmer or drift subtly across the sky, Diademus appears fixed, its shape unyielding even as the heavens turn around it. Scholars of the Astralis mark its ascension as the beginning of ordered time, when civic tallies are reset, vows are renewed, and unresolved matters are brought once more before judgment.

Those born beneath Diademus are said to feel the weight of obligation early in life. Whether by temperament, circumstance, or expectation placed upon them by others, they often find themselves carrying responsibility that cannot easily be set aside. Diademus is not believed to grant authority; rather, it marks those upon whom authority is placed. Tradition warns that those who flee such burdens rarely escape consequence, though whether this is fate or social gravity remains debated.

The sign is closely associated with the hart, an animal revered not for aggression, but for vigilance and restraint. In Alorisian civic art, the crowned hart appears carved into oath halls, court thresholds, and public seals, symbolizing leadership that endures watchfully rather than advances by force.

Diademus is also bound, both symbolically and materially, to oathstone, a substance whose presence has shaped the customs of law, faith, and martial devotion across Aloris.

Astrological treatises attribute to Crownbound an affinity toward Persuasion, particularly when grounded in duty, mediation, or lawful authority. Such influence is said to stem not from charm, but from the quiet pressure of expectation — the sense that one ought to listen.

Ashkar - The Embervice

Ashkar rises as Diademus begins to wane, its stars scattered unevenly across the Astralis like fragments cast from a dying fire. Unlike the rigid symmetry of the Crownbound, Ashkar appears broken at first glance, its shape only becoming clear after prolonged observation. Astral scholars describe it as a wing burned through but still aloft, held together by momentum rather than wholeness.

Those born beneath Ashkar are traditionally believed to endure loss early, though not always visibly. The sign is associated not with tragedy itself, but with what follows: continuation without restoration. Ashkar does not promise recovery, only persistence. In Alorisian belief, it marks those who learn to move forward carrying absence rather than resolving it.

Ashkar is bound symbolically to ashglass, smokestone, and other materials shaped by extreme pressure or heat without refinement. These substances are not celebrated for beauty or power, but for the fact that they remain usable after transformation. Craftsmen often invoke Ashkar when working salvaged or damaged materials, believing the sign favors what has already survived destruction.

The animal most closely associated with Ashkar is the crow, not as a symbol of death, but of memory and witness. In many regions of Aloris, crow motifs appear on funerary markers not to mourn the dead, but to acknowledge what must be remembered in order to continue living.

Astrological tradition assigns Ashkar an affinity toward Survival, particularly in environments where resources are scarce or conditions are hostile. This is not interpreted as physical toughness alone, but as the ability to endure psychologically when comfort, certainty, or support has been stripped away.

Ashkar is widely regarded as an uncomfortable sign. It offers no reassurance, no promise of reward. Yet among veterans, refugees, and long-serving civic workers, it is quietly respected. There is an old saying recorded in several provincial dialects: _“Diademus binds the oath. Ashkar teaches you how to keep it when it burns.”

Virellis - The Riverborn

Virellis rises as Ashkar fades, its stars stretched long and gently curved, forming a pattern likened to a river seen from great height. Unlike the sharper signs of the Astralis, Virellis appears fluid, its boundaries difficult to fix, its lines more suggested than defined. Astral charts note that its brightest stars seem to drift slightly year to year, an effect scholars attribute to the mind seeking order in motion rather than any true change in the heavens.

Those born beneath Virellis are believed to possess an instinct for movement through complexity. Tradition holds that they do not resist change, nor do they chase it, but learn instead to follow its course until the moment comes to shape it. Virellis is said to favor patience over decisiveness, and continuity over force. In civic writings, the sign is often invoked in matters of mediation, succession, and long-term planning.

Virellis is symbolically associated with water-worn stone and pale blue-green gems taken from riverbeds, materials valued not for brilliance but for the evidence of time upon them. Such stones are thought to carry the memory of passage, shaped not by singular impact but by countless small pressures applied without pause.

The animal most commonly linked to Virellis is the otter, admired for its ease within shifting currents and its ability to thrive where land and water blur together. In regional folklore, otters appear as guides rather than guardians, leading travelers safely through uncertain crossings before vanishing without acknowledgment.

Astrological tradition assigns Virellis an affinity toward Insight, particularly in understanding motives that are not spoken aloud and tensions that move beneath the surface. Those marked by the sign are believed to read situations as they develop rather than as they are presented, sensing when resistance will only deepen the current.

Among Alorisian scholars, Virellis is sometimes called the Quiet Sign, not because it lacks influence, but because its work is rarely visible until it is already done. There is a common proverb recorded in multiple dialects: “Stone breaks where it stands. Water arrives where it is needed.”

Gilwreath - The Open Hand

Gilwreath rises with a compact clarity, its stars arranged in a pattern long compared to an outstretched palm. Five points burn brighter than the rest, evenly spaced and unmistakable even to the untrained eye. Unlike many signs whose shapes must be learned, Gilwreath announces itself readily, and for this reason it has long been favored by traders, heralds, and those who make their living through exchange.

Those born beneath Gilwreath are believed to understand value instinctively, though not always honestly. The sign is associated less with wealth itself than with movement—of coin, favor, labor, and obligation. Alorisian scholars note that Gilwreath does not distinguish between fair trade and clever leverage; it merely marks those who recognize opportunity and know how to reach for it.

Tradition holds that Gilwreath favors visibility. Deals made openly under its watch are said to bind more tightly than those struck in shadow, not because deception fails, but because witnesses remember. As such, the sign is often invoked in civic contracts, guild charters, and public oaths of service where reputation matters as much as outcome.

Gilwreath is symbolically linked to warm-hued stones drawn from shallow earth—materials prized for accessibility rather than rarity. These are not heirlooms, but working stones, passed from hand to hand and worn smooth by use. The animal most often associated with the sign is the fox, admired not for guile alone, but for its ability to survive within systems larger and stronger than itself.

Astrological tradition assigns Gilwreath an affinity toward Sleight of Hand and Deception, though this is not always framed negatively. In some regions, the sign is praised for adaptability and wit, while in others it carries a quiet suspicion, a belief that those marked by Gilwreath see rules as tools rather than boundaries.

There is a common saying among guild workers of Kavas: “The open hand can offer, take, or conceal. Gilwreath teaches you when each matters.” As with all such proverbs, whether this is wisdom or warning depends entirely on who is listening.

Bastyr - The Unbroken Wall

Bastyr rises heavy and deliberate, its stars forming a dense square that appears unmoving even as the Astralis turns around it. Astronomers note that Bastyr is easiest to chart during turbulent seasons, when lesser constellations blur or vanish behind cloud and storm, yet its shape remains constant. For this reason, it has long been regarded as a sign of endurance rather than strength.

Those born beneath Bastyr are believed to resist change instinctively—not out of stubbornness, but out of an innate sense of what must be held. Tradition claims that Bastyr does not produce innovators or conquerors, but anchors: people who remain when others move on, who stand when retreat would be easier, and who absorb pressure without spectacle. In Alorisian civic doctrine, Bastyr is often cited in texts concerning city defense, long-term stewardship, and intergenerational duty.

The sign is symbolically linked to dense, iron-dark stones taken from deep foundations and fortification works. These materials are not prized for beauty or rarity, but for reliability. Structures built upon such stone are said to “settle honestly,” revealing their flaws early rather than collapsing without warning.

The animal most closely associated with Bastyr is the bull, not as a symbol of aggression, but of grounded force. In rural regions, bull iconography tied to Bastyr is common on boundary markers, granaries, and defensive works, representing strength that does not need to move to be effective.

Astrological tradition assigns Bastyr an affinity toward Athletics, particularly feats of endurance, labor, and sustained effort rather than speed or finesse. Those marked by the sign are said to excel in holding lines, carrying burdens, and enduring hardship without complaint.

Among soldiers and builders alike, a common saying is recorded: “Storms break themselves against Bastyr.” Whether this reflects faith or wishful thinking depends largely on whether one stands behind the wall—or beneath it.

Felaryn - The Veiled Gaze

Felaryn rises faint and easily overlooked, its stars scattered thinly across a quiet stretch of the Astralis that demands patience to read. Unlike signs that assert themselves through brightness or symmetry, Felaryn reveals its shape only under clear skies and careful attention. Many who chart it for the first time are convinced it is incomplete, until they learn to trace what is implied rather than what is plainly seen.

Those born beneath Felaryn are believed to possess an uneasy awareness of what lies just beyond notice. Tradition holds that they are rarely surprised, yet often troubled, for the sign does not grant comfort with knowledge—only access to it. Felaryn is associated with watchers, archivists, sentries, and those who learn too early that seeing clearly does not guarantee being believed.

Felaryn is symbolically linked to Taerine , a rare gemstone prized less for beauty than for behavior. When viewed directly, Taerine burns with a vivid orange brilliance, almost painful in its intensity. When turned even slightly aside, that light collapses into a dull, unremarkable hue, as though the stone resents indirect attention. Scholars of the Astralis often cite Taerine as a perfect terrestrial echo of Felaryn itself: truth that reveals itself only when faced head-on.

Because of this property, Taerine is commonly set into instruments of observation—lenses, scrying frames, survey markers, and arcane sighting tools—where it serves as a reminder that clarity demands alignment. In some traditions, a sliver of Taerine is carried by sentries or investigators sworn to watch without interference.

The animal most often associated with Felaryn is the owl, revered not as a symbol of wisdom, but of patience. In regional folklore, owls of Felaryn are said to observe without intervening, carrying knowledge forward rather than acting upon it. Their presence is considered neither blessing nor curse, only significant.

Astrological tradition assigns Felaryn an affinity toward Perception, particularly the discernment of subtle details, concealed truths, and inconsistencies that others dismiss. Those marked by the sign are believed to notice patterns before they cohere, sensing danger, deceit, or opportunity without always being able to name it.

Felaryn is regarded with quiet unease. A saying recorded among scribes and watch officers alike is often attributed to this month:
“What you refuse to face will never reveal itself.”

Kharvek - The Temperate

Kharvek rises with a quiet intensity, its stars drawn close together as though bound by pressure rather than pattern. The sign lacks the brilliance of earlier months, yet it holds the gaze once found, its presence steady and unflinching. Astral scholars describe Kharvek as a constellation that does not dominate the sky, but refuses to be ignored.

Those born beneath Kharvek are believed to possess an uncommon equilibrium of restraint and resolve. Tradition holds that they are not driven by passion nor dulled by hesitation, but guided by a measured persistence that endures where urgency fails. Kharvek is said to favor those who work steadily, return to unfinished labor, and temper impulse with patience. It is the sign of continuation without excess.

Symbolically, Kharvek is associated with materials that bear evidence of strain without distortion—stones darkened by heat, metals marked by repeated stress yet still true. Such substances are valued not for purity, but for reliability. In Alorisian workshops, these materials are often regarded as honest, revealing their limits early rather than betraying their purpose later.

The animal most closely linked to Kharvek is the badger, admired for its tireless resolve and unwillingness to abandon ground once claimed. In regional folklore, the badger is not portrayed as fierce, but as immovable, continuing its work regardless of opposition or injury. It is persistence made flesh.

Astrological tradition assigns Kharvek an affinity toward craft and investigation, particularly disciplines that demand methodical labor, careful repetition, and tolerance for slow progress. Those marked by the sign are believed to excel where mastery is earned through endurance rather than inspiration, and where errors are corrected through return rather than abandonment.

Among artisans and laborers, a saying attributed to Kharvek is spoken quietly rather than celebrated: “What endures was never rushed.” The sign is rarely praised in song, yet its influence is found in every structure that stands because someone chose to finish the work.

Caltheris - The Unset

Caltheris rises as a deliberate fracture in the Astralis, its stars arranged in a pattern that suggests interruption rather than design. The constellation resembles a crown pulled apart or a seal left unpressed, its symmetry implied but never completed. Astral scholars note that Caltheris appears most clearly in skies unmarred by light, as though it resents illumination that is too eager.

Those born beneath Caltheris are believed to exist in proximity to unfinished power. Tradition holds that they are drawn toward moments of transition—vacant thrones, dissolving councils, abandoned laws, or histories that have yet to settle into narrative. Caltheris does not grant authority, nor does it deny it. Instead, it marks those who arrive when order has loosened and must decide whether to restore, reshape, or let collapse stand.

Symbolically, Caltheris is associated with dark, matte materials that absorb sound and heat, objects that seem to quiet the space around them. Caltheris is linked to Xlarkot , an extremely rare material. Such materials are often used in archives, court chambers, and sealed vaults, places where absence must be acknowledged without being filled. Items tied to Caltheris are rarely adorned, and when they are, the ornamentation is restrained to the point of near-erasure.

The animal most closely linked to Caltheris is the raven, revered as a bearer of memory rather than omen. In Alorisian folklore, ravens are said to remember what others forget, carrying fragments of truth across generations without judging their weight. They are watchers of aftermath, not harbingers of death.

Astrological tradition assigns Caltheris an affinity toward History and Politics, particularly in understanding failed systems, inherited authority, and the subtle violence of omission. Those marked by the sign are believed to sense when power persists only by habit, and when a structure remains standing simply because no one has dared to unset it.

Caltheris is regarded with caution in civic circles. A phrase recorded in several court annals is often attributed to this month: “What is left undecided will decide itself.” Whether this is a warning or a justification depends entirely on who speaks it.

Elarion - The Breaking Line

Elarion rises stretched and angular, its stars forming a long, uneven line that appears fractured in several places, as though something once continuous had been forced apart. Astral scholars note that the constellation is easiest to trace at the horizon, where sky and earth seem to strain against one another, reinforcing the sense that Elarion marks division rather than motion.

Those born beneath Elarion are believed to live at boundaries. Tradition holds that they are often present when lines are drawn—between nations, between families, between eras—and that their lives are shaped by moments where separation becomes unavoidable. Elarion does not favor aggression or reconciliation, but the recognition that not all things can remain joined.

Symbolically, Elarion is associated with materials that split cleanly under pressure: stone that shears rather than crumbles, wood that cracks straight down the grain. Such materials are valued for honesty. They do not disguise weakness, nor do they resist change once the force applied exceeds what they can bear.

The animal most closely linked to Elarion is the wolf, regarded not as a predator, but as a creature that understands borders—territory marked, defended, and respected. In folklore, wolves of Elarion are said to walk the edges of settlements rather than the wilds themselves, ensuring distance is maintained without needless intrusion.

Astrological tradition assigns Elarion an affinity toward Intimidation, not through threat, but through certainty. Those marked by the sign are believed to project resolve simply by standing firm, making it clear where they will not yield. In some regions, this is interpreted as leadership. In others, as inflexibility.

Elarion is regarded with discomfort rather than fear. A line recorded in several regional legal codices is often attributed to this month: “What breaks cleanly spares what would otherwise tear.” Whether this is wisdom or excuse is left deliberately unanswered.

Ceren - The Fountain

Ceren rises not only as a sign within the Astralis, but as a presence upon the sky itself. During this month, the green moon Ceren reaches its fullest prominence, its pale verdant light casting a subtle hue across night clouds and stone alike. Astral scholars have long debated whether the constellation was named for the moon, or the moon for the sign. No consensus exists, and most texts wisely avoid committing to either claim.

The moon’s coloration is not constant throughout the year. Only during the month of Ceren does its green cast intensify, a phenomenon observable even to the untrained eye. Ancient observatories record that this brightening coincides precisely with the blooming of mana clover across the world, a correlation so consistent that it is treated as causation in all but name.

Those born beneath Ceren are traditionally said to embody potential unmeasured. The sign concerns itself not with fate or intention, but with capacity—how much may be held before form gives way to change. Ceren does not grant power; it reveals abundance. It marks moments when growth outpaces design and escalation becomes inevitable.

Ceren’s influence is inseparably tied to mana clover, a rare plant that blooms only during this month and only beneath skies touched by the green moon’s light. When in bloom, the clover releases Aetherdew, a clear, shimmering liquid understood by arcanists to be raw arcane energy made physical. Unlike spells or enchantments, Aetherdew bears no structure or restraint. It does not act with purpose. It simply flows.

Fragmentary historical records speak of an age when Ceren’s rise coincided with devastation rather than wonder. Societies unadapted to magic were overwhelmed by the presence of mana clover, their bodies reacting violently to Aetherdew as though poisoned by excess. These accounts are rarely taught openly, yet their implications linger: Ceren does not create magic—it exposes the world to what it cannot yet withstand.

The animal most closely associated with Ceren is the rabbit, a creature uniquely able to absorb Aetherdew without rejection. Through repeated consumption of mana clover, rabbits grow steadily and without apparent limit, becoming the colossal beings later named bunnysauruses. Though timid in nature, their size alone reshapes landscapes, toppling forests and stone with careless movement. In them, scholars see Ceren’s lesson made flesh: growth without intention is still growth, and it still carries consequence.

Astrological tradition assigns Ceren an affinity toward Arcana, particularly emergent and amplifying magic—forces that escalate beyond their initial bounds. Those marked by the sign are believed to grasp magic intuitively, yet struggle with containment, discovering too late that what they nurture may exceed their control.

Ceren is neither condemned nor celebrated outright. Its green light is regarded with equal awe and unease. A passage attributed to early Astralis observers records the prevailing sentiment succinctly:

“A fountain does not choose what it drowns.”

Whether the green moon is a blessing, a warning, or a remnant of an older world is left unresolved. Ceren offers no judgment—only abundance, and the burden of surviving it.

Arynvae - The web

Arynvae appears late in the year, its stars faint and easily missed by those who do not know where to look. The constellation forms a subtle web, delicate strands of light stretched thin across the Astralis. At its center burns a single, brighter star, fixed and unmoving, like a spider waiting at the heart of its work. From a distance, the pattern appears almost accidental; only with patience does its structure reveal itself.

Those born beneath Arynvae are traditionally associated with precision rather than strength. The sign is not linked to speed for its own sake, but to controlled movement, balance, and placement. Arynvae favors those who navigate complex spaces, who rely on tension, timing, and awareness rather than force. In Astralis commentary, it is often contrasted with earlier signs of endurance or growth, marking a shift toward delicacy and intent.

Arynvae is associated with Darkwood, a material valued for its flexibility, resilience, and muted presence. Darkwood does not draw attention to itself, yet it bears strain without splintering. Structures and tools made from it are often light, bala

nced, and deceptively strong, reflecting the sign’s emphasis on careful construction over overt display.

The sign is also linked to Moonsilk, a fine and resilient thread known for its strength relative to its weight. Moonsilk is difficult to see unless caught at the right angle, and its tension is often felt before it is noticed. In Astralis texts, this pairing reinforces Arynvae’s association with unseen support and the dangers of underestimating what holds a structure together.

The creature most closely associated with Arynvae is the spider. In this context, the spider is not a symbol of malice or fear, but of patience and control. It moves only when necessary, trusts its own construction, and survives not by confrontation but by placement. Folklore tied to Arynvae often depicts the spider as a keeper of balance, maintaining structures that others pass through without ever noticing.

Astrological tradition assigns Arynvae an affinity toward Acrobatics, particularly movement through constrained or unstable environments. Those marked by the sign are believed to excel where balance, spatial awareness, and deliberate motion are required, thriving in spaces where a single misstep carries consequence.

Arynvae is rarely spoken of loudly. Its lessons are subtle, its influence quiet. A marginal note found in several Astralis charts summarizes it without embellishment:

“What holds the web is rarely seen.”

Vaelcor - The Prepared Hand

Vaelcor rises as the year turns inward, its stars arranged in a pattern that suggests deliberate placement rather than motion. The constellation appears orderly and restrained, visible most clearly in the weeks before winter’s first hard signs arrive. Astral observers note that Vaelcor does not herald the cold itself, but the narrowing window before it—when action still matters.

This month is traditionally associated with accomplishment giving boons to those who have resolved issues. Vaelcor marks the final season of movement before scarcity, when communities turn from growth to gathering. Farming, hunting, foraging, curing, and storage all fall under its influence. The sign is not concerned with abundance, but with sufficiency—having enough, and knowing when to stop seeking more.

Vaelcor is closely linked to goodberries, valued not for excess nourishment but for reliability. They are gathered, preserved, and rationed during this month, often set aside specifically for winter travel or lean periods. In Astralis calendars, goodberries are cited as emblematic of Vaelcor’s lesson: small, dependable resources that carry people through what lies ahead.

The sign is also associated with evergreen trees, particularly aetherpine—an ethereal evergreen said to persist unchanged through winter. Aetherpine is described as faintly unreal, its needles catching light oddly, as though half elsewhere. Many swear the trees are possessed by spirits, though no agreement exists on what that truly means. Regardless, aetherpine stands as a marker of continuity when other growth recedes.

Animals linked to Vaelcor are the stoat and ferret, creatures known for relentless gathering, caching, and efficient use of what is found. In folk observation, these animals are most active just before winter, vanishing into burrows heavy with stores while the world above grows quiet.

Astrological tradition associates Vaelcor with practices rather than traits—planning, collection, and readiness. Those born beneath the sign are often described as practical, forward-looking, and attentive to future needs. They act while time remains, not when urgency forces them.

Vaelcor does not celebrate winter. It respects it. A note commonly appended to almanacs during this month reads simply:

“What is gathered now decides how the cold is met.”

Nireval - A renewed flame

Nireval closes the year in the deepest stretch of winter, when stores are thinnest and the land offers little in return. Its constellation sits low along the horizon, its stars forming a wide, shallow arc that resembles a rising sun, faint but unmistakable. Astral observers mark it not as the end of darkness, but as proof that darkness does not remain unbroken.

This month is associated with endurance rewarded, progress made. Nireval belongs to those who have made it through the year intact—who planned, gathered, and survived long enough to see the cycle complete. It does not promise ease or abundance, only the reassurance that effort mattered and continuation is possible.

Those born beneath Nireval are traditionally said to carry good fortune and resilience. They are believed to weather hardship more reliably than most, able to persist through lean times and emerge with what they need still in hand. Prosperity linked to Nireval is not excess, but stability—the ability to last when others falter.

Nireval is closely associated with Featherburn, a rare weed-like plant that blooms only near the end of the month. Featherburn grows in desolate climates where little else survives. When in bloom, it produces a soft, magical fire that radiates heat and warmth without spreading to its surroundings. The flames burn visibly, yet do not consume nearby material.

The plant’s leaves are thin and narrow, clustered together so that each bloom resembles a long feather. As it burns, Featherburn shifts in color between soft oranges and pale yellow-white light, providing warmth in places where cold would otherwise be fatal. It is regarded as a sign of survival rather than comfort—a reminder that even at the year’s coldest point, warmth can still be found.

The animal associated with Nireval is the bear, revered for its ability to endure winter through preparation and restraint. The bear does not fight the season; it outlasts it. In this way, it mirrors the month itself—present not in defiance of hardship, but in quiet persistence.

Nireval is marked with subdued celebration. Communities take stock of what remains, share warmth where they can, and acknowledge survival without excess. A short line often written at the close of yearly records is attributed to this month:

“We endured.”