“They were not born in the Beginning. They were born when we began to believe.”

— Archdeacon Elira Voss, The Light That Came After

“They are not gods. They are what remains when belief curdles.”

— High Inquisitor Malrek, The Black Catechism

In the aftermath of The Meteor event, the world did not merely fracture physically. It fractured spiritually. From that rupture emerged two opposing divine phenomena: the Choir and the Legion. Neither existed at the dawn of creation. Both were born from mortals.

They are not reflections of an original cosmic order. They are consequences.

The divine forces of the modern world arose not from primordial design, but from belief made desperate and potent in the wake of catastrophe. The Meteor did not merely shatter the Earth; it seeded it with Shardisite, a substance capable of amplifying thought, emotion, and conviction until belief itself gained the power to shape reality.

As humanity struggled to survive amid grief, terror, and hope, Shardisite-infused lands, bodies, and minds became conduits. Emotion no longer dissipated. It accumulated. Where belief endured long enough and strongly enough, it began to crystallize into form.

Where belief reached outward toward healing, meaning, and transcendence, the Choir emerged. Where belief collapsed inward into obsession, despair, and wrath, the Legion followed.

Together, they represent the metaphysical consequence of a shard-saturated world: uplift and corrosion, faith and fixation, salvation and consumption—divinity born not of creation, but of catastrophe.

The Choir is the celestial order of divine beings born from belief in virtue. They are manifestations of emotional ideals given form by mortals who, even amid ruin, dared to imagine compassion, courage, joy, and love.

The Choir did not appear in the earliest centuries after The Meteor. Their arrival marked a turning point in metaphysical history, when hope itself became strong enough to shape reality. Since then, the Choir has grown into a structured and persistent divine presence, felt across every region of the known world.

Though they do not name themselves gods, many mortals do. The Choir works through miracles, visions, inspiration, and guidance. Their influence is strongest where belief is communal, sustained, and sincere.

Archangels The three Archangels embody the broadest forces that uplift sentient life: Love, Joy, and Courage. Their manifestations are rare and monumental, reshaping cities, cultures, and eras. When an Archangel appears, history records the moment as sacred.

Angels Angels represent more intimate virtues and emotional truths. They answer prayers, appear in dreams, and perform quiet miracles. In rare moments of great crisis or sanctity, they have manifested physically, leaving behind relics, consecrated ground, or enduring legends.

In the modern era, faith in the Choir is deeply embedded in society. Religious institutions echo the structure and grandeur of Catholicism, with angels replacing saints and divine manifestations shaping holy calendars.

• Towns typically maintain a chapel to the Choir.
• Cities host multiple churches, some dedicated to specific angels.
• Metropolises feature vast cathedrals, often built atop sites of angelic manifestation.

The Choir does not demand worship, but belief strengthens them. In return, they uplift the faithful, guide civilizations, and resist the spread of despair.

Where the Choir arose from hope, the Legion was born from suffering.

The Legion is the pantheon of demonic entities formed from trauma, obsession, despair, and wrath. They are not divine by intention, but by accumulation. They are psychic scars left upon the world—emotions so overwhelming that they acquired form.

Their emergence began in the centuries following the Meteor, as humanity endured starvation, madness, exploitation, and endless war. Pain became ritualized. Fear became currency. From this, the Legion grew.

A defining moment in their ascent was the Naming of Nekoda, when the first Archdemon was identified, recorded, and invoked by name. This act of recognition transformed scattered manifestations into something organized and enduring. Many scholars mark this moment as the birth of demonic worship and the second great spiritual wound of civilization.

Some call the Legion gods. Others call them lies made flesh. All who study them agree on one truth: they are real, and they hunger.

The Legion is a chorus of torment given form. Each entity embodies a single consuming emotion, one that devours rather than uplifts.

Archdemons represent vast, catastrophic emotional forces that reshape societies and eras. Demons embody more specific vices, fixations, and afflictions.

They manifest through nightmares, hallucinations, blood rites, and tragic miracles. Some form covenants with mortals. Others invade unbidden, drawn to suffering like carrion birds.

In the modern era, worship of the Legion is forbidden and hidden. Their cults operate in secrecy, beneath cities and behind locked doors. They promise power, clarity, and release, but always at a cost.

To speak a demon’s name aloud is taboo in many cultures. To invoke one is often punishable by death. Yet the Legion persists.

In every city, there are whispers. Symbols etched into alley walls. Rites buried in forbidden texts.

Pain is patient. So are its saints.

The Choir and the Legion are not equals, nor are they opposites in the traditional sense. They are responses to the same wound.

The Choir uplifts belief toward healing and unity. The Legion exploits belief twisted into fixation and despair.

Together, they define the spiritual reality of the modern world. Civilization exists in the tension between them, shaped by which emotions are nurtured, and which are allowed to fester.

The heavens did not judge humanity after the Apocalypse.

Humanity judged itself.