Heinia Argon'atsu

Heinia Argon'atsu, firstborn daughter of Zumaridi Argon’atsu III and Queen Sethenya, was unlike her brothers and sisters in ways that were both subtle and profound. While her siblings wielded power through war, time, or shadows, Heinia found strength in creation—a force no less potent than destruction. Born beneath a crescent moon, she was said to have entered the world without a single cry, her first breath as silent as the veils her mother wove around her chambers.

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From childhood, Heinia was different. She was not ambitious like Nefarious, not cunning like Iniquitous, nor wrathful like Calamitous. Where her father carved out empires through conquest, she sought to mend, to soothe, to weave together what had been broken. She inherited her mother’s gift of En’keliah, the ability to manipulate perception and weave illusions, but she did not use it for deception or control. Instead, she turned her abilities inward, searching for a way to create something lasting.

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The Art of Dreamweaving

As she grew older, Heinia became fascinated with the Silken Veil, a rare and dying craft once practiced by the Ini'ostryan people. The technique involved weaving enchanted silk that could capture emotions, memories, and even fragments of time itself. These silks, when draped over a person, could evoke long-forgotten sensations—rekindling lost love, reliving joyous moments, or providing solace to the grieving.

She spent years studying ancient scrolls, learning how to infuse fabric with the energy of En’keliah. The process was meticulous—threads had to be spun under moonlight, dyed with crushed gemstones, and woven while the weaver whispered a continuous chant of intent. Unlike traditional illusions, which faded once the caster’s will dissipated, Silken Veils became permanent, holding echoes of the emotions placed into them.

Her first true creation, The Shroud of Solace, was woven in secret and gifted to a grieving mother who had lost her child to the Shadowplague. When the mother wrapped herself in the cloth, she felt the ghostly warmth of her child’s embrace, heard his laughter in the wind. She wept, but for the first time, she did not feel alone. Word of Heinia’s craft spread, and soon nobles and commoners alike sought her out—not for wealth or power, but for comfort, for the chance to hold onto fleeting happiness a little longer.

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The Silent Power

Though Heinia was not a warrior, her influence became undeniable. Kings and generals sought her silks before battle, requesting garments woven with courage and focus. Diplomats carried her veils to tense negotiations, their fabrics imbued with patience and trust. Even assassins came to her, seeking cloaks that whispered of unseen shadows.

Her own family was not immune to the power of her craft. Nefarious, despite his cold heart, requested a veil—one said to soften a hardened soul. Heinia wove it with care, but when he draped it over his shoulders, he found that the only memories it awakened were those of regret, of the brother he may or may not have slain. He never wore it again.

Calamitous, ever tormented by his Sekhem’tul, asked for a veil to silence his visions. Heinia spent months crafting it, embedding within it layers of stillness, of quiet rain and distant tides. When he wore it, his episodes lessened, his mind able to anchor itself in something softer than raw chaos. It was one of the only things that ever brought him peace.

Even her father, the great Mostereem himself, requested a shroud—though he never spoke of what he wished it to hold.

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The Scholar of Silk and Shadow

Heinia’s craft elevated her status beyond that of a mere princess. She became a respected figure in Adyntian society, a bridge between the seen and unseen, between past and present. While her brothers sought power through dominion, she sought it through creation, through preservation.

But not all viewed her art with admiration. Some believed that her Silken Veils were a form of dangerous magic, that emotions should be fleeting, that memories should be left in the past. When a noblewoman was found lifeless, her hands clutching a veil woven with sorrow, whispers of dark sorcery crept through the palace halls. Was Heinia creating beauty, or was she trapping souls?

To protect herself, she sought out lost knowledge, expanding her craft beyond illusion and into the realm of Echo Weaving—a technique so old that even the oldest scrolls mentioned it only in passing. With this, she could not only infuse silks with emotions but with voices, with images, with fragments of consciousness itself. Her veils became more than just fabric—they became tapestries of history, woven with the very essence of those who had once lived.

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The Loom of Eternity

In time, Heinia established the Loom of Eternity, a sacred hall where she and her apprentices preserved the legacies of the greatest minds, warriors, and rulers of Adyntia. A dying scholar could whisper his final teachings into silk, ensuring that knowledge was never lost. A warrior could leave behind the echoes of his victories, allowing future generations to witness his battles. Even the poor and forgotten could have their lives woven into eternity, never erased by the sands of time.

Her work was not without consequence. Some feared that one day, Heinia herself might become trapped within her own creations, that she would weave herself into history and never return. But when asked if she feared being lost in the past, she simply smiled and replied,

"I do not seek to live forever. I only seek to make sure that those who lived are never forgotten."

A Legacy Beyond the Throne

Unlike her siblings, Heinia had no desire for power. She did not crave the throne, nor did she seek to rule from the shadows. Her influence was quieter, subtler, but no less profound. When the throne of Adyntia changed hands, when wars were fought and won, when brothers betrayed brothers and history repeated itself, Heinia remained—watching, weaving, preserving.

And long after the names of kings and conquerors faded, long after cities crumbled and empires turned to dust, her veils would remain, whispering their stories to those who dared to listen.