The Luminary's Lament

In the days before the Calamity, a light did glow amongst the Xenoids, a luminary beacon, not of ruling dominion, but of wisdom unbound. This Luminary was a conduit, a harmonizer between the beings of protection, the Guardians, and the hands of creation, the Artisans. Their essence was not command, but counsel; not authority, but understanding.

Their wisdom wove together the tapestry of society, guiding the Xenoids in their dance with the Source, an energy of enigmatic essence born from the heart of the purple Xenite. In the Luminary's hands, this energy was not a weapon, but a harmony, not a tool, but a lullaby sung to the future.

But then came the Calamity, a catastrophe of such magnitude that it rent the fabric of their existence, stripping the Luminary from the Xenoid constellation. In the Luminary's absence, a void yawned wide, a chasm of lost wisdom and guidance. Fearful of the encroaching darkness, the Guardians, now Overseers, sought to fill this void with their own light.

But their illumination was of a different nature. It shone not with the Luminary's gentle glow, but with a harsh, relentless glare. In the aftermath of the Calamity, when the vestiges of the Xenoid civilization clung to existence, the Guardians, now recast as Overseers, exerted their grip. Their rule did not bring further destruction, but it brought change—a change as profound as the transition from artisan to miner, a shift in the Xenoids' relationship with the Source, from reverence to utilitarianism. The luminary's guidance was replaced with the Overseer's command, and the Source, once cherished, became a lever of control in their hands.

The lament of the Luminary is a dirge sung for the harmony that once was. It is a tale spun from the threads of lost guidance, a tale that whispers of the consequences of unchecked authority. It is a chronicle of the bitter transformation of a society's heart, a reminder of the destructive power of fear, and the importance of wisdom and balance.

The Luminary's voice, though quiet, resonates still. It murmurs a warning against the forgetting of old wisdom, against the casting aside of balance and harmony. It implores the listener to remember: the Source is not a tool, but a gift to be treasured. The Luminary's lament is a call to remember the glow of wisdom in the face of the darkness of authority, a call to return to a balance once cherished, but now forgotten.