Euloria was said to possess a beauty that rivaled the moon itself—pale as starlight, with flowing black hair like silken shadow and eyes of silver-moon hue, haunting and wide. Upon her right arm coiled a sleeve of tattoos, each one a grim devotion to the Night Mother Nyx: shadowy wings, a weeping third eye, and a halo of falling stars, etched in deep violet inks. These markings, drawn by her own hand in moments of trance, mirrored the visions that haunted her dreams.
Clad often in flowing silks of charcoal and pearl, her presence carried an air of melancholic grace, like a waltz danced on the edge of mourning.
Early Life & Ancestry
Born to the House of Thaelys, a reclusive and once-revered Vanir bloodline in Itelion, Euloria Thaelys was raised within the austere halls of a noble estate overlooking the silver groves of eastern Tolria. Her father, Lord Malcair Thaelys, was an accomplished astrologer and mystic, whose obsession with eternity drew him into a secretive Vanir cabal—a sect of vampire-blooded aristocrats who sought communion with the cursed goddess Nyx.
King Athelstan Valarion, then a rising visionary noble, persuaded Malcair to partake in an occult rite wherein he consumed the blood of Nyx. But Malcair, unlike others, succumbed utterly to the blood-curse, devolving into madness and bloodlust. He was slain in his own manor by High Elven paladins, accused of worshipping forbidden gods and practicing blood magic.
Euloria, the only surviving heir, was spared—deemed too young and untainted. Yet she had already joined the rite.
When Athelstan and his followers were cast into exile, it was Euloria who chose exile over perpetual shame, fleeing with them eastward across the sea beyond Tolria's shores. She became one of the first true Valar, her mortality swallowed by the curse of the Night Mother.
Marriage to Cyrus Valarion
Euloria and King Cyrus Valarion met on the long voyage into exile. Their bond was not forged in political convenience, but in shared sorrow and a yearning for a future beyond the ruins of their families legacy.
Though Cyrus had yet to wear the crown, he swore himself to her on the deck of the black-keeled flagship Vesperwind, beneath a full moon and fog-choked stars. They were wed upon the shores of the Immortal Isle during the founding of Valheim, capital of The Kingdom of Valarion.
For a time, she was beloved as the Moon-Eyed Bride, a symbol of hope for the newly-born Valar. Her art—charcoal landscapes and haunting dreamscapes—adorned the halls of the Spire of Valarion, each piece a meditation on her people's shared sorrow.
Descent into Madness
Yet from the moment her bare feet touched the soil of the Immortal Isle, the dreams began.
Night after night, the Night Mother returned to her in visions—weeping, laughing, bleeding stars. The goddess whispered in forgotten tongues. Euloria would wake screaming, her hands trembling with charcoal-stained madness. These visions worsened especially after she gazed into The Hollow Reflection...
Her once-delicate art became a horror of spirals, eclipses, and screaming silhouettes. She drew Nyx obsessively—on canvas, parchment, walls. Her tattoos grew darker. Her eyes more distant.
Cyrus, now king, wept in silence as he watched the woman he loved unravel like thread in the hands of fate. He summoned mages, seers, priests—but nothing could sever the tether between Euloria and the goddess whose blood cursed their line.
In the end, on a night where the sea roared louder than thunder and fog covered the Spire in a mantle of black, Queen Euloria Valarion cast herself from its summit, her white gown blooming like a ghost in the air before vanishing into the cliffs below.
Her body was never found.
Legacy
Euloria’s death became a turning point in King Cyrus Valarion’s life. Where once he had sought understanding, now he sought redemption through vengeance. The grief for his wife—maddened, cursed, and lost—hardened into icy resolve. It is said that he keeps her final painting locked within a sealed chamber, its contents too terrible for others to behold.
Her memory lingers in whispers along the halls of the Spire. Her name is spoken with reverence and fear—the queen who stared too long into the abyss and painted what she saw.
Some say, when the fog is thickest, her pale form can be seen walking the cliffs of Crown's End, weeping tears of charcoal that stain the sea.