Inaroth

Inaroth

Appearance

Inaroth's form is draped in a hooded robe of shifting black, its fabric threaded with faint constellations that shimmer like fragments of the night sky. Her silver-white hair flows beneath the hood, catching glimmers of fire and starlight. Beneath the mask, her golden eyes burn with the cold inevitability of a clock striking its final hour. In her hand she wields a staff-like weapon crowned with a broken clock-face, its hands frozen and aflame, radiating both ruin and authority. Around her, the air distorts — seconds fracture, hours stretch thin, and gravity bends — as though reality itself yields before her presence.

Personality

Inaroth is detached, cruel, and calculating. She speaks rarely, her silence more terrifying than words. Unlike the others, she does not crave acceptance or recognition — she embodies inevitability. She enjoys control not through noise or violence, but through presence: those who meet her gaze know instantly that resistance is futile. A sadist since childhood, she takes subtle pleasure in reminding others of their inferiority, but never indulges in recklessness. To her, superiority is not only truth but law. She respects Kirata, but not as a god — only as an equal.

History

Mortal Life

Inaroth was born a prodigy. From her earliest years, she absorbed knowledge far beyond her age, mastering lessons meant for scholars and university students while still a child. Her mind was a blade — sharp, quick, merciless. Yet she spoke little, reserving her words only for her father, who placed upon her endless expectations.

In her free time, she trained her body as ruthlessly as her mind. Blades, knives, boxing, jujitsu — every art of combat bent easily to her will. Where others struggled for years, she mastered in weeks. Talent came to her as naturally as breath.

But beneath her brilliance lay something darker. Inaroth was a sadist, born not with compassion but with hunger for dominance. She delighted in superiority, in proving herself above others. When challenged, she did not argue. She hurt. Quietly, in places where no eyes could see, she made others bleed to remind them of their place.

Her first kill came when she was only seven years old. It was not an accident, nor a moment of desperation. It was a choice, deliberate and cruel. And from that day, blood became a companion she would revisit again and again.

Though Kirata's voice whispered to her, as it did to the others, she rejected it. “I need no guide,” she said. “I am strong alone.”

The Descent into Darkness

Where others broke under tragedy, Inaroth required no breaking. Her descent was not a fall — it was a climb. Each life she took, each act of violence she committed, only reaffirmed her truth: that she was superior. Her brilliance, her strength, her cunning placed her above all law, all morality, all restraint.

She learned to wear a mask of cold composure, hiding the monster beneath a quiet, controlled exterior. To her family, she was the dutiful daughter. To her peers, the untouchable prodigy. But in the shadows, she was predator — precise, methodical, unstoppable.

Unlike the others, there was no point of no return. Inaroth was never meant for innocence. She was born aligned with cruelty, and her path was only the inevitable expression of what she already was.

Rebirth as a God

When death finally came for her, Inaroth did not awaken as a supplicant, nor as a mortal reborn into something greater. She opened her eyes in the void already a sovereign, her form crowned not by Kirata's will, but by her own inevitability.

Her body shimmered with the flow of space and time itself, every movement stretching and warping the world around her. Chains of starlight coiled and unraveled at her command, blades of frozen seconds flickered across her hands, and her eyes gleamed with the endless weight of eternity. She was not given power — she was power.

Unlike the others, who wandered aimlessly before reaching the Light, Inaroth walked directly to it as though it had always been hers. And when she stood before Kirata's throne, she did not kneel. She met its gaze and said nothing. For she needed no blessing, no gift, no confirmation. She was already complete.

There, she claimed her place — the first seat to the right of the throne. Not as a subordinate, but as Kirata's right hand.

Role and Current State

As the Twelfth Moon, Inaroth embodies time and space — not merely their flow, but their absolute command. Where others wield domains shaped by circumstance, hers is the structure upon which all others exist. Every spell, every plague, every prison, every forge, every soul — all unfold within the current she controls.

To the Moons, she is not sister, nor peer. She is ruler. Her presence silences rebellion, her authority is unquestioned. Even Disan, the loudest voice among them, falters beneath her gaze. Hayasa bows with unease, Askede resists in silence, and even Natabut accepts her as axis.

She can only be glimpsed in the Abyss during December, where constellations twist and the flow of time itself bends to her presence. To witness her is to stand in the still point of eternity, where past, present, and future converge — and to know that no being escapes the current she commands.

Unlike the others, Inaroth does not see Kirata as creator. She sees it as equal. Where the others kneel, she stands. Where they obey, she enforces. She is not a child of the Abyss — she is its right hand.

Synopsis

Inaroth, the Abyss God of time and space, is the first to awaken and the Twelfth Moon in seat. Born cruel and brilliant, she rose through life not by tragedy but by choice, rejecting Kirata's guidance and carving her own path of dominance. Upon her death she awoke already sovereign, her power over time and space unmatched. Unlike the other Moons, who see Kirata as creator, Inaroth stands at its side — the Abyss' right hand, enforcer of inevitability.

Trivia

Inaroth killed her first victim at only seven years old, not from necessity but for the pleasure of asserting superiority.

She mastered multiple martial arts and weapons in childhood, treating each as a puzzle to conquer rather than a discipline.

Kirata whispered to her throughout her life, but she openly rejected its voice, claiming she needed no guide.

She alone among the Moons does not consider Kirata her creator — only her equal.

Her presence bends reality around her, causing clocks to break, stars to flicker, and moments to fracture.

Other Moons fear her not just for her domain, but because she embodies something they are not: inevitability.