在世界被命名之前，星辰早已存在。 它們不解釋，也不干預。 但在某些地方—— 它們，會做出選擇。 這是一個關於星座的世界。 每一個星座，不只是象徵， 而是一種力量，一種秩序， 一種讓世界運作的方式。 而白羊—— 是開始。
中文
很久以前，在人們尚未為這世界賦予名字之前，星辰早已靜靜佇立於天穹之上。它們不言不語，沒有解釋自身的存在，只是夜復一夜地看著這片土地慢慢成形。在無數的星光之中，有一處地方總是比其他地方先亮起，後來人們稱之為「白羊宮」。白羊宮矗立在一座高聳的山丘上，那裡的高度讓每個站在宮殿的人都不由自主地抬頭仰望，彷彿天空比大地更加接近。在夜晚，宮殿的塔樓捕捉了星光，塔尖在黑暗中微微發亮，遠遠看去，彷彿是天空本身托住了這座宮殿。宮牆以淡色石材築成，上面雕刻著無人能完全解讀的符號，據說這些符號比文字更古老，是星辰留下的痕跡。白羊宮的歷史悠久到無法追溯，沒有人能確定它見證過多少場戰爭，也無法說清有多少名字曾在它的廳堂中興起又消逝。唯一可以肯定的是，它從未離開過。
傳說中，白羊宮由第一代白羊血脈創建，那是一位戰士，一個名字早已被遺忘，但他的故事卻流傳了下來。據說他曾與一頭來自星辰之火的天界巨羊交戰，這頭巨羊的力量不屬於大地，而來自天穹。這場戰鬥持續了整整七個夜晚，第八日清晨，當第一縷陽光灑在山丘上時，巨羊低下了頭。它既未被殺死，也未被驅逐，而是留下來了。從那天起，巨羊成為了白羊宮的守護靈，被束縛於宮殿與血脈之間，靜默地守護著這片土地。然而，很少有人問過，它為了留下來究竟失去了什麼。
如今，白羊宮的統治者是塞拉菲娜·阿登提斯女士。她並非以高聲命令來統治，但當她站立時，人們便明白她的位置毋庸置疑。她那如火焰般的長髮自由地垂落在背後，一雙清澈而專注的眼睛似乎能直視人心。她不以情感驅使，也不依靠恐懼來統治，而是因為有人必須站在火焰與它可能吞噬的一切之間。那一天清晨，天氣溫和，春日的陽光灑在宮牆上，一切看似如常。塞拉菲娜獨自站在陽台上，俯瞰著庭院。士兵們以穩定的節奏訓練著，學者們低聲討論著問題，工匠們敲打金屬的聲音此起彼伏，一切都顯得熟悉而令人安心。如果僅僅用眼睛觀看，似乎沒有任何異樣。然而，塞拉菲娜感覺到了某種不同，不是危險，而是一種更微妙的東西，就像一首一直完美合拍的旋律突然慢了半拍。
她將手放在石製欄杆上，石頭是溫暖的，宮殿依然有生命。然而，她始終感受到的那份安定與確信開始變得模糊。當天稍晚，她召集了議會。大廳寬敞明亮，天花板上的星座圖案在日光下顯得柔和。首先發言的是凱爾·索恩將軍，他信任邊界、巡邏，以及那些可以看見的威脅。接著是高級學者艾洛溫·維雷利斯，她談到了星圖中的延遲，但對於命名這種延遲卻猶豫不決。最後發言的是多里安·弗林特，他提供了一種理性且平衡的觀點，提醒眾人星辰也有其自然週期。每一種解釋都合乎邏輯，但沒有一種能抹去塞拉菲娜心中的不安。
三天後，一位年輕的星圖學徒犯了一個錯誤，至少事後是這樣被稱呼的。他在星圖上畫了一條不該出現的線，當被詢問時，他無法解釋為何自己的手會移動，只說那一刻星辰似乎暗示了某些不同的東西。星圖被收走了，那條線被糾正，而事情也就此結束。然而，那條線雖然從紙上消失了，卻留存在記憶中。隨後，一個古老的名字悄悄地被提起，不是作為警告，也不是預言，只是作為一種可能性——「遮蔽者」。一個不受任何星座束縛，也不效忠於任何宮殿的身影，一個穿梭於圖案之間的存在。歷史沒有提供它的面容或起源，但留下了它帶來的後果。
當晚，塞拉菲娜再次回到陽台上。天空依舊繁星閃爍，她等待著那份一直以來會回應她的存在。然而這一次，那份火焰般的力量沒有回應，守護靈保持沉默。在這份沉默中，她明白了一件從未理解過的事——沉默本身，也是一種信息。她沒有拉響警報，也沒有再次提起那個名字，她只是仰望著天空。星辰並未移動，但她知道，有些東西已經改變，而這種改變已經開始重新塑造一切。
English Version
A very long time ago,
before people began giving names to the world,
the stars were already in the sky.
They did not speak.
They did not explain themselves.
They simply existed.
Night after night.
Watching the world slowly take shape.
And among those countless stars,
there was one place
that seemed to light up
earlier than the rest.
Much later,
people would come to call it—
Aries.
The Aries Palace stood beneath that sky.
It was built on a high hill,
so high that anyone standing there
would instinctively look upward,
as if the heavens were closer
than the ground below.
At night,
the palace towers caught the starlight,
their tips glowing faintly in the dark.
From a distance,
it almost looked as if the sky itself
were holding the palace in place.
The walls were made of pale stone,
carved with symbols no one could fully understand.
It was said those markings
were older than written language—
traces left behind
by the stars themselves.
The Aries Palace had been there
for a very long time.
Long enough that no one could say
how many wars it had witnessed,
or how many names
had risen and faded within its halls.
Only one thing was certain.
It had never left.
According to legend,
the palace was founded
by the first of the Aries bloodline.
A warrior.
A name long forgotten,
but a story that endured.
The story said
he once faced a great celestial ram,
a being born not of earth,
but of fire and will drawn from the stars.
Its strength did not belong to the land.
It came from the sky itself.
Their battle lasted seven nights.
On the eighth morning,
when the first light of dawn fell across the hill,
the ram lowered its head.
It was not slain.
It was not driven away.
It remained.
From that day on,
the ram became the guardian spirit of Aries,
bound to the palace,
bound to the bloodline,
watching over the land in silence.
Few remembered to ask
what the ram had lost
in order to stay.
In the present age,
the ruler of the Aries Palace
was Lady Seraphina Ardentis.
She was not someone
who ruled by raising her voice.
Yet when she stood still,
people understood
that her place was not in question.
Her hair, the color of flame,
fell freely down her back.
Her eyes were clear.
Focused.
She did not command through emotion,
and she did not rely on fear.
She ruled because
someone had to stand
between the fire
and everything it might consume.
That morning,
the weather was gentle.
Spring sunlight rested against the palace walls,
and everything appeared
exactly as it should.
Seraphina stood alone on her balcony,
looking down into the courtyard.
Soldiers trained in steady rhythm.
Scholars spoke in quiet debate.
Artisans worked,
hammer striking metal again and again.
The sounds were familiar.
Reassuring.
If you were only watching,
you would have seen nothing wrong.
But Seraphina felt it.
Not danger.
Something subtler.
A slight misalignment.
Like a melody
that had always been perfectly timed—
suddenly delayed
by half a beat.
She rested her hand on the stone railing.
The stone was warm.
The palace was still alive.
Yet the presence she had always felt,
the quiet certainty that had never left her,
had begun to blur.
Later that day,
she summoned the council.
The great hall was bright and open,
the constellations painted on its ceiling
softened by daylight.
General Kael Thorne spoke first.
He trusted borders.
He trusted patrols.
He trusted threats
that could be seen.
High Scholar Elowen Virelith spoke of the star charts,
and of a delay
she hesitated to name.
Dorian Flint spoke last,
offering reason and balance,
reminding them that stars, too,
follow natural cycles.
Each explanation made sense.
And yet,
none of them erased
the unease Seraphina carried.
On the third night,
a young star-mapping acolyte
made a mistake.
At least,
that was what it was called later.
He drew a line on the chart
that did not belong there.
When questioned,
he could not explain why his hand had moved.
Only that, for a moment,
the stars had seemed
to suggest
something else.
The chart was taken away.
The error corrected.
The matter closed.
But the line remained—
if not on parchment,
then in memory.
After that,
an old name
was spoken quietly.
Not as a warning.
Not as a prophecy.
Simply as a possibility.
The Veiled One.
A figure not bound to any constellation.
Not loyal to any palace.
One who moved
between patterns.
History offered no face,
no origin.
Only consequences.
That night,
Seraphina returned to her balcony.
The sky was bright with stars.
She waited.
For the presence
that had always answered before.
This time,
the fire did not respond.
The guardian remained silent.
And in that silence,
she understood something she never had before.
Silence, too,
can be a message.
She did not raise an alarm.
She did not speak the name again.
She simply looked up.
The stars had not moved.
Yet she knew—
something had shifted.
And that shift
had already begun to change everything.
— End of Episode 1
