Cora descended into the lower ring of the Nexus Chamber—where the glow of fate gave way to fire, smoke, and something older.
A massive stone bridge stretched across a chasm of molten Aether, glowing with deep purples and sickly golds. Floating platforms drifted lazily through the air—some carried corrupted wood, others slabs of fossilized bone, shattered crystal, or bleeding ore. All of them pulsed with raw, unrefined power.
At the heart of the Forge hovered a monolithic anvil, suspended by nothing but force of will. Above it floated a spectral hammer, forged from flame and starlight.
And behind it all—
The fire.
But not normal flame.
This fire screamed softly, as if alive.
It burned not with heat, but with intention.
The Assistant's voice returned—steady now, hushed, as if not to wake something older than time:
"The Forge of Origin does not craft by recipe. It shapes by essence. It does not ask 'what do you want?' but 'what does your soul demand?'
You may forge a blade, a tome, an artifact, a crown, a staff... or something unnamed.
You may choose your medium—metal, root, bone, mist, memory.
What you create here will not be perfect. But it will be yours. And it will remember the moment it was born."
The Forge of Origin is a living, Aether-fueled construct—built into the very foundation of the Nexus Chamber. It predates the Aetherborn. It reacts not to what you want—but to what you are becoming.
Unlike traditional MMOs where players "choose" a starter weapon, here the Forge reads your:
Essence Classification
Skill Disciplines
Pillar of Flesh (physical form)
Emotional intent
It then offers materials, shapes, and mutations that align with your inner nature.
As Cora approached, the world grew still.
The molten Aether pit below rumbled—deep and slow—like breath drawn by something eternal.
The moment her foot crossed the threshold, the chamber responded.
A smooth slab of dark-gray obsidian—veined with glowing Aether—rose and lifted her gently off the ground. It hovered above a swirling pit of liquid reality: a deep well of raw Aether constantly shifting between elements, colors, and meanings.
This platform wasn't held by magic or mechanics. It was held by intention.
It felt her purpose.
It knew what she was here to do.
A soft pulse passed up through her feet and into her spine. The Forge had linked to her neural imprint.
From this moment on—it would remember her.
Around her, six massive floating crucibles orbited in slow procession. Each was connected to the Forge by shimmering energy threads. These crucibles did not hold simple elements—they pulsed with conceptual power:
The Crucibles of Origin
🔥 Fire — Red-gold, aggressive. Occasionally spat sparks that hissed with voices. Passion, destruction, transformation.
❄️ Ice — Silver-blue, dense, slow-burning. Hummed like something ancient and grieving. Endurance, clarity, control.
🌑 Shadow — Purple-black, unpredictable. Its whispers weren't heard, but felt—fear, secrets, hunger.
🌟 Light — Pale white and gold, painfully radiant. Pulsed like a god's heartbeat. Truth, healing, revelation.
🌍 Earth — Deep green and stone-gray, grounded and heavy. Smelled of ancient soil. Growth, defense, permanence.
⚡ Storm — Electric indigo and silver. Made the platform tremble with each flash. Chaos, speed, volatility.
Each crucible could be drawn upon—but only one or two would resonate fully with your Essence and Fate Thread.
For Eldritch Bound like Cora?
The Shadow crucible twitched.
The Storm crucible pulsed erratically.
The Light crucible dimmed—as if it wanted no part of her.
The Three Orbs: The Choice of Meaning
In front of the altar, three semi-transparent orbs floated vertically—each a metaphysical ingredient:
Essence – A swirling sphere of color and light, every hue at once. Represents your soul's truth—your classification. It determines whether your weapon aligns with or resists you.
Memory – This orb flickered with fractured visuals—some not even hers. Represents past trauma, regrets, and pride. Infusing it makes the artifact alive, capable of evolution.
Will – The most unstable. Flickered between expansion and collapse. Represents your unspoken intent—what you mean to do, even if you haven't done it yet. Dictates function.
Most players chose Essence + Will or Essence + Memory.
Cora chose differently. She chose Memory + Will—a terrifying combination.
The altar responded.
It didn't rise—it grew.
Fractal geometry erupted from its core. Its shape formed not from stone, but from memory, intention, and need.
Cora's altar emerged as a spine-shaped cradle, encircled by thorned rings. Runes shimmered below, etched in a tongue older than words.
Then the Assistant spoke again—its voice hollow now, like a memory itself:
"What you place here will not be crafted.
It will be remembered.
Now... shape the thing that shapes you."
Above the altar, the chosen orbs of Memory and Will began orbiting like twin stars. One blinked with fractured visions. The other pulsed like a barely contained storm.
The altar hummed with her breath. With her becoming.
Material Resonance
Five potential materials manifested, swirling around her like hovering shards of thought:
Wraithdust Alloy – Shadow-infused remnants of erased entities.
Grants ethereal form, phase attacks, anti-memory effects.
Resonates with: Whispercraft
Living Rootbone – Organic bone grown through corrupted roots.
Supports mutation, entanglement, semi-sentience.
Resonates with: Bloodroot Binding
Memory Glass – Crystalized trauma, formed from thought and time.
Amplifies psychic power, enables echoes, reacts to player decisions.
Resonates with: Eldritch Bound essence
Aethersteel – Stable. Rejected by the Forge.
Soulflame Resin – Incompatible. Burned out instantly.
Cora chose: Memory Glass + Living Rootbone.
The materials fused with a sound like bones cracking and glass whispering.
Tendrils of crystal formed, threaded through with black-green organic veins.
The altar shifted again, growing rings and vertebrae—an incomplete creature waiting to be named.
Manifestation: The Waking Spindle
It didn't appear.
It was born.
A floating spine of memory-glass vertebrae rose into the air, bound by rootbone tendons that flexed with thought. Four coiled tendrils emerged like antennae. A core eye opened—not a real one, but a vortex of shifting color and sound.
"The Spindle is tied to memory," the Assistant whispered.
"It will remember what you forget. Evolve with what you regret. It can coil, float, hide, or strike. It is yours. But not always under your control."
Affinity Selection
Six rings of elemental energy emerged from the pit—each one a force of nature, fighting for influence.
Cora was allowed two choices:
Primary Affinity:
🧠 Mind – Control, disruption, identity distortion
The weapon reacts to emotional energy. Boosts confusion-based effects.
Whisper Infusion:
☠️ Entropy – Madness, decay, chaos
Adds unpredictable effects. Rewrites attack logic on trauma-trigger.
The Spindle shuddered. Then stilled.
Its tendrils curled in. Its eye opened fully—a vortex of memory and emotion.
Finalization
True Name Revealed: The Waking Spindle
"She dreams. It listens. And when she forgets… it acts."
🧬 Weapon Profile
Name: The Waking Spindle
Type: Psychic Tendril Conduit
Core Affinity: Mind (Disruption / Control)
Whisper Infusion: Entropy (Madness Triggers)
Behavior: Semi-sentient; reactive to mental/emotional states
Traits:
Mindweaver's Reach – Extend psychic control to multiple enemies
Wake the Core – Release a confusion burst affecting nearby foes
Echo Bloom – Psychic bleed pulses from debuffed targets
Evolution Trigger: Unlocks new forms via memory fractures and moral conflicts
The Assistant's final words were soft. Almost reverent.
"You are not armed with steel.
You are armed with influence."
"The world will not fear the Spindle—not at first. But they will in time."
As the Forge dimmed and the altar cooled, the Waking Spindle hovered beside Cora—twitching, silent, hungry.
Awaiting its first memory.
"Alright, I think that's it? I'm all done with character creation, right Assistant? I can head to that Gate of Rebirth thingy?" Cora turned to the ethereal being that was just floating beside her.
"Yes, Aetherborn. You may now enter the Gate of Rebirth, to begin your new life in Eldrinis."
"Cool, cool," Cora nodded, looking at the long ass stairs she needed to climb. She groaned. She hated exercise.