They held sway over nature and thus over our lives. The sacred land Dalaam was sealed behind a wall of rock, mortals were not allowed to enter. We were trapped, with an increasingly dwindling ration of rain to get us by. Our provinces grew desperate, feudal war erupted across the land. We were trying to appease the two gods that tormented us so, at any cost, to become their sole favour. When they commissioned their garments, staff, and blade, one man instead stole away into the night with them. Armed only with his own conviction and introspection, he arrived at the gate and fought his way through the demon hordes. The gods raged, the world shook. They came down to the surface to punish him, but he did not fight. With a mystic key, disguised as a carrot to appear unspectacular, an imprisoning spell was released, binding them to the planet and trapping their rage. His staff soaked in the power of the heavens, which he would refine and use as the Star Master. Thunder and Storm were quelled, though they can be still felt whenever their bouts of rage peak.

(Fanfest - Hometowns)

The metal carcass drags itself out of the crumbling crucible of hate, as the enemy fades behind. It is broken, beaten, beyond repair. The crucial essence is leaking from its battered form, it doesn't even have the capacity to hold its precious cargo any longer. The raw essence crushes in on itself. So far from home. So far from home ever being conceived. In the daunting immensity of spacetime, it does not grope outwards but searches inwards. Strongest memories, most plentiful memories. Those forged at home. Sifting through times of elation and times of terror. The pleasant and the painful memories. Days spent with friends, days squandered at the arcade, days marked by the dark intentions of your enemy. But most of all, it cherishes its time as a child, with its family. The essence has been changed irrevocably by experiences far beyond the expectations of a child or any adult. There's no guarantee it will make it back to its body, returning to a youth's life would be incredibly difficult. But it did not travel to the End at the Beginning by virtue of quitting. It demands the opportunity now. It feels melancholy for its home and host. Holding the most cherished memories, it ignores the vastness of its trial. the passage of time is perceived relatively, lost in itself the essence does not perceive the endlessness of the journey. It only helps to focus on and recognize its own time... hopefully not overshooting it. But if it can return to its own time, the host's location shouldn't be far behind. The alternative is an eternity spent in an illusion of its own making, or a lost mind crumbling under the weight of its inability to find home. Homesickness was always a burden. Now it's a child's greatest light in its darkest hour.