ㅤ
　　 THIAGO ELDRAETH AS ECHOFROST
　　ㅤ “Where strength meets silence,
　　 ㅤㅤㅤ ice learns to burn.”
ㅤ　　　　　　ㅤ (41:125.)

Forged in the chill of dawn, Thiago moves like the rhythm of a storm restrained. His breath carries frost, his strikes echo with the pulse of ancient tempests. A mentor in the art of endurance and will, he tempers bodies as he tempers spirits through clash, through cold, through quiet resolve. When his elemental power awakens, the air crystallizes with purpose; flames freeze mid-flight, and thunder bows before his calm precision. He is both mentor and mirror revealing one’s strength through every shatter and stillness.

(The Echofrost endures.. ✉️!)
A sentinel of balance and discipline,
the frostbound flame that trains both body and soul.
ㅤ
ㅤ　　 ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
　　 AMAIRE ELDRAETH AS BLOOMPATH
　　 “Colors remember what words forget, and
ㅤㅤdreams bloom where her brush has passed.”
ㅤ　　　　　　　　(41:125.)

She paints not with pigment, but with pulse each stroke humming with quiet divinity. Her canvas breathes; petals unfold from empty air, rivers carve their way through silence, and the wind itself pauses to watch creation take form. Every hue she conjures is a spell, every motion a whisper to the unseen.
Through her art, forgotten worlds awaken a garden of memories blooming between realms of thought and reality. She does not merely paint what she sees; she paints what longs to exist.

(The Bloompath unfolds... ✉️!)
A dream-weaver of living colors,
the sorceress who turns imagination into being.
ㅤ
ㅤ　　 ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ  ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ NATHFIAN ELDRAETH AS DUSKFLOAT
ㅤ ㅤ “The hands remember what the soul
ㅤ once shaped beneath the silent stars.”
ㅤ                             (41:125.)

Within Eldraeth’s dim halls, the forge of Duskfloat breathes like an old prayer, its embers whispering to the unseen. Memory bends into form, light and shadow entwined in relics that hum with sorrow, wonder, and time. Each spark carries a trace of forgotten dreams, binding silence to steel. From solitude’s anvil, art is born, where dusk never falls, it floats, suspended between creation and remembrance. Here, even the air bears the scent of burnt starlight, and the stones hum with quiet reverence for what once was. In the hush between hammer and flame, the heart learns to remember what the world has long forgotten.

(The Duskfloat endures... ✉️!)
A quiet architect of enchanted remnants,
forging the unseen into eternity.
ㅤ
ㅤ   ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ    ㅤ
ㅤ     NABIETHA ELDRAETH AS SWANSHINE
          ㅤ “Grace is the language the wind
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ learns from her silence.”
ㅤ                               (41:125.)

In the moonlit courtyards of Eldraeth, Swanshine moves like a whisper between breaths. Each step she takes bends the air into rhythm, each turn a spell that carries both sorrow and serenity. Her dance is not bound by music—it creates it, weaving gusts of wind into melodies that shimmer like silver over still waters. The air trembles at her command, shaping storms into poetry and stillness into light. Through her motion, the unseen finds form, and the wind remembers how to sing again.

(The Swanshine drifts... ✉️!)
A waltz of air and quiet divinity, where
motion becomes magic, and grace becomes power.
ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ   ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
   MEDIAN DYNASTY OF ELDRAETH: VOLS. 004.
         Those Who Stood Between Legacy And
       Becoming Still Learning The Rhythm That
                Would One Day Be Their Own. ⚚

Born beneath the echoes of their predecessors, they carried both reverence and restlessness in every step. Theirs was a season of discovery—of trembling balance and soaring promise, where imperfection danced beside brilliance. Guided by tradition yet drawn to innovation, they sought the fine thread between discipline and dream.

Within mirrored halls, their laughter mingled with music, their missteps with courage. And though they were not yet masters of grace, the light within their motion foretold a future, one where the dance would evolve, and the kingdom would remember them not as students, but as the pulse of what was yet to come..  🦢
ㅤ

ㅤ    ㅤ
ㅤ        YUISHA ELDRAETH AS PEARLAIRE
           “Where her feet touch, the earth learns
                       how to breathe again.”
ㅤ                             (41:125.)

In the dew-lit atriums of Eldraeth, Pearlaire dances with the patience of dawn. Every step draws color from the soil, every turn awakens petals that shimmer like fragments of sunrise. Her magic flows through rhythm, soft yet sovereign—an unseen melody that teaches roots to dream and flowers to remember the wind. When she moves, the gardens stir in quiet reverence; stems arch to follow her grace, and blossoms unfold as though obeying an ancient vow. Through her, nature becomes choreography, and beauty itself takes form.

(The Pearlaire blooms... ✉️!)
A waltz between grace and growth, where
motion plants light within the living earth.
ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ   ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ    ㅤ
ㅤ     HELENA ELDRAETH AS DRIFTBLOOM
        “Every word she sings plants a memory
                              that never dies.”
ㅤ                              (41:125.)

In the hush of Eldraeth’s gardens, Driftbloom writes with breath and echo. Her verses bloom where silence falls, each syllable a seed that grows into light or sorrow. The air around her sways gently, carrying fragments of spellbound melodies that alter the heart before the mind can resist. When she sings, time bends to listen. Petals rise from the earth, rivers change their tune, and the stars hum softly in reply. Her voice is both a wound and a remedy—an eternal script written upon the wind.

(The Driftbloom sings... ✉️!)
The lyricist of living spells, turning language
itself into a garden of enchantment

ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ    ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ    ㅤ
ㅤ   NERVYN ELDRAETH AS WHISPERWAKE
         “Water remembers the shape of every
                      silence it has touched.”
ㅤ                             (41:125.)

Beneath the mirrored halls of Eldraeth, Whisperwake moves with the grace of tide and breath. Each motion carves ripples into air and water alike—fluid gestures that blur the line between body and current. His dance speaks in murmurs of reflection, every turn a whisper that calls the rivers to rise and the storms to still. When he moves, the world bends softly around him: droplets hover in devotion, and the moon’s reflection follows his every sway. In him, water finds its rhythm again—flowing, remembering, and returning to the quiet it once came from.

(The Whisperwake flows... ✉️!)
A dancer of mirrored tides, where motion
becomes memory, and silence becomes sea.
ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ   ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ SADDAM ELDRAETH AS NIGHTSWAN
ㅤ ㅤ “The hands remember what the soul
ㅤ ㅤ once shaped beneath the silent stars.”
ㅤ                           (41:125.)

Within Eldraeth’s dim halls, the forge of Nightswan breathes like an old prayer, its embers whispering to the unseen. Memory bends into form, light and shadow entwined in relics that hum with sorrow, wonder, and time. Each spark carries a trace of forgotten dreams, binding silence to steel. From solitude’s anvil, art is born, where night never lands, it glides—graceful, eternal—between creation and remembrance. Here, even the air bears the scent of burnt starlight, and the stones hum with quiet reverence for what once was. In the hush between hammer and flame, the heart learns to remember what the world has long forgotten.

(The Nightswan endures... ✉️!)
A quiet architect of enchanted remnants,
forging the unseen into eternity.
ㅤ
ㅤ   ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
     FINAL FEATHER OF ELDRAETH: VOLS. 005.
      The Youngest Of The Line, Fragile As Dawn 
    Bound By The Whisper Of An Ancient Curse. ⚚

Born beneath the shadow of prophecy, they carried within them both the kingdom’s last grace and its quiet sorrow. To the elders, they were the final bloom of a fading garden; to themselves, a question the stars had yet to answer. Each movement they made shimmered with both promise and peril, beauty tinged with the ache of destiny.

And yet, in their gentleness lay defiance. For though they were called the final feather, their dance spoke not of endings, but of flight—an unbroken rhythm that reached beyond curse and crown, toward the fragile brilliance of what might still endure.. 🦢
ㅤ

ㅤ
       HESKAËL ELDRAETH AS HALCYON
         “Telltale a longing heart, uttered
within its shadowed grace of swan.”
ㅤ                      (41:125.)

Feather from a winter solstice of Eldraeth, drifted by curiousity whispering beneath serene wish, drift witted in silence. Woefully enfolding a curse, dusk surrounding and another surreal torment. He speaks in whispers of wings and echoes of dawn, given a miraculously turned into invented kismet. An old truth enshroud graciously. Thus gloom night, unleashing freedom truly were an unforgettable memoir. Inherent as an epitome of a nightshade, bound with string that keen eventually cease any solitude and lead into memory of eternity. The pluck of its vibrant plume leaves a trace as a sign of bravery.

(The Halcyon meanders... ✉️!)
Through resonant of truth, created every steps bloom in the light of sobriety— veiled deceitfully.

ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ  ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
       KIERAN ELDRAETH AS SKYFOLD
             “Beneath thus vault of heaven,            
carved thus silence in rhythm.”
ㅤ                              (41:125.)

A motion that radiance like an orb spread across the sphere,  adrebaline pulse of Eldraeth felt like the warm of daylight, occuring an indeed majestic turn. Burning deep in the twilight dusk, a phlegm of heat and breezingly wind suddenly wraps you into an unexpected divinely bliss. Twirled precisely against the eternity, became a spell touched the minutes into stillness. Each lift or turn echoes between heartbeats, captivated thus surrounding. Sacred, kind of surreal flowed of rhythm traces unseen constellation. An old tune carried devotion, a proficient souls leaves polish that lingered evermore.

(The Skyfold embraces... ✉️!)
Pageant of flames, a measure's mastermind— ceaselessly halts in reverence.

ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ  ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
      ㅤㅤ RENJI ELDRAETH AS LIGHTRAIN
              “Fate fallen down as it shattered,           
ㅤㅤㅤ a source of enlightened sincerity.”
ㅤ                             (41:125.)

In the bleak of the night wherein sorrow and deaden prevail. Regarded as the light that shepherd each trails of Eldraeth. He blessed by the ancient, arise by divine fate that carved inside his veins, likely ended all existed torments. His fingers running veiled sutures through an open wounds. Plucking light and poured unseen elixir into the heart, able to shut etched scars. Its shadowed quietly soften, consuming inside the souls. Every strings made of moonlight that draw thin, and woven by the wind of the dusk.  Enfolding a beyond harmonies in any of existences.

(The Lightrain illuminates... ✉️!)
Vibrate of silver-stringed reverie, a starborne weaver in deity bloodline— another rarity.

ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ  ┈┄──┈┄  ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
       RYOICHI ELDRAETH AS OBSIDIAN SPIRIT
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ       “The wind remembers the
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ shape of a dancer’s breath.”
ㅤ  ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ   (41:125.)

Movement begins where silence exhales. Shadows bend to the rhythm of unseen grace, tracing fleeting paths through air that trembles under weightless command. Every motion carves a shimmer, swift and deliberate, blurring the line between descent and flight. The ground waits, patient beneath a body that forgets to fall. Each turn reshapes the dusk into motion, each breath becomes choreography. The air folds inward, carrying fragments of rhythm that rise, hover, and dissolve. Light clings to every outline before surrendering it to the dark, leaving afterimages that hum with the memory of motion. Stillness follows, not as an ending, but as a breath held in reverence.

(The Obsidian Spirit endures... ✉️!) a silhouette of motion and hush, born to teach the wind how to dance.

ㅤ ㅤ   ㅤ  ┈┄──┈┄ ִ  ᝰ.ᐟ  ׄ  ┈┄──┈┄
ㅤ

ㅤ
     FINAL FEATHER OF ELDRAETH: VOLS. 005.
      The Youngest Of The Line, Fragile As Dawn 
    Bound By The Whisper Of An Ancient Curse. ⚚

Born beneath the shadow of prophecy, they carried within them both the kingdom’s last grace and its quiet sorrow. To the elders, they were the final bloom of a fading garden; to themselves, a question the stars had yet to answer. Each movement they made shimmered with both promise and peril, beauty tinged with the ache of destiny.

And yet, in their gentleness lay defiance. For though they were called the final feather, their dance spoke not of endings, but of flight—an unbroken rhythm that reached beyond curse and crown, toward the fragile brilliance of what might still endure.. 🦢
ㅤ