The Sun, after eons of burning bright, began to change. Its core, once steady and strong, grew restless, the immense heat causing its body to swell and expand, a cosmic inferno stretching outward. First, Mercury fell—consumed in a blaze of solar fire. Venus followed soon after, and with each passing moment, the Sun’s ravenous heat drew nearer to Earth. Humanity had prepared for such an event, though no amount of planning could stop the inevitable. When the expanding Sun reached Earth, it touched upon the nuclear power stored deep within the ruins of Russia, igniting a catastrophic explosion. The resulting blast hastened the planet's demise, incinerating all in its path. Earth was reduced to a desolate wasteland, and the final remnants of life vanished into the void.

The Solar System followed suit, succumbing one by one to the relentless appetite of the ever-growing Sun. Planets, moons, and asteroids alike were swallowed by the fiery giant until, at last, nothing remained but the Sun itself—a swollen, volatile star, pulsating with unchecked power.

God, from His seat in the ether, gazed upon this transformation. He watched as the Sun grew ever more powerful, surpassing its natural boundaries. The order of the cosmos was disrupted, and with it, the delicate balance of creation. Determined to restore what had been lost, God forged a new star—a nuclear star, bright and fierce. With an effortless motion, He hurled it toward the Sun.

The two celestial bodies collided in a spectacular burst of energy. The heavens trembled, the stars blinked out, and everything dissolved into a boundless nothingness. Silence followed—a silence so profound that even time seemed to have ceased.

Millennia passed, though in this void, time was a concept without meaning. And then, from the ashes of that obliteration, God awoke. Rising from the remnants of what had been, He stretched, the cosmic dust swirling around Him. His work was not yet done. From the void, He would bring forth creation once more.

With a sweep of His hand, God gathered the remnants of the old universe—the stardust, the forgotten fragments of destroyed worlds—and held them within His grasp. From this ethereal substance, He molded five beings, daughters born of the divine. They emerged radiant, each embodying a unique aspect of creation: Libertas, Urania, Nyx, Artemis, and Selene.

Libertas was the first, her form shimmering with an inner light, embodying the essence of freedom. Her spirit was unshackled, untamed, and full of boundless energy. She radiated warmth and led her sisters, lighting the path ahead with her golden glow. Where there was darkness, she brought light; where there was doubt, she brought clarity.

Next came Urania, whose beauty was as vast as the cosmos itself. Formed with the intellect of Zeus and the grace of Mnemosyne, Urania was a goddess of wisdom and joy. Her laughter rang through the heavens, a sound so pure and uplifting that it filled even the emptiest spaces with life. Innocence lived in her, untainted by the weight of responsibility, and she shared this purity with all who crossed her path.

Nyx was born of the night, her essence as deep and mysterious as the starry skies she governed. Shadows clung to her form, but they did not hide her—they revealed her. Nyx’s presence was a shield for her sisters, a dark veil that protected them from unseen dangers. The night was her domain, and in the quiet stillness, she found her strength.

Artemis came next, the embodiment of beauty in its most natural form. Her presence was serene, a delicate balance between strength and softness. Like a clear mountain stream, she flowed gracefully, bringing peace and unity to those around her. Artemis was the bond that held her sisters together, her quiet yet unyielding spirit binding them as one.

Finally, Selene emerged, her light pale but no less radiant than her sisters’. She was a muse, drawing all eyes with her ethereal glow. There was a purity to Selene, a brightness that seemed untouched by the turmoil of the world. Where others saw chaos, she saw harmony; where others faltered, she inspired.

But even with these five radiant goddesses, God felt something was missing. His creation needed balance. And so, from the remaining cosmic dust, He shaped Sol—a being not quite a goddess, yet not mortal either. Sol embodied the full spectrum of emotions, a reflection of all that was both divine and human. She had no extraordinary powers, but she was beloved by her sisters, who swore to protect her.

With His daughters brought into being, God turned His attention to the universe itself. The Sun, which had once consumed everything, could not be allowed to reign unchecked. And so, God created a new celestial system—the Lunas System. At its heart was not the Sun, but the Moon, a quiet guardian at the center of this new cosmos. Around the Moon revolved six planets: Libertus, Uranius, Solius, Nyxus, Artemus, and Selenius, each one named after His daughters.

As punishment for its prior destruction, the Sun was reduced to a mere satellite, orbiting the planet Solius, which was entrusted to the care of the sisters. There, the goddesses gathered to shape a new world, one where life could thrive once more. Solius, a beautiful planet with smooth, fertile lands, became their canvas. They breathed life into its soil, and soon, animals and humans alike began to emerge, their existence echoing the beauty of the Earth that had once been.

Yet, in the midst of this creation, love bloomed in an unexpected place. Nyx, the goddess of the night, found herself drawn to Libertas, the light-bearer. Their bond deepened with each passing day until it blossomed into a love that neither could deny. But their devotion to one another soon became a distraction. Lost in their affection, Nyx and Libertas neglected the work God had entrusted them with. Their love, though pure, began to interfere with the delicate balance of creation.

God, observing their growing attachment, warned them gently at first. His words were soft, veiled in subtlety, but the two goddesses paid no heed. Their hearts were intertwined, and they could not tear themselves away from one another. Their love became their world.

Realizing that He could not allow this to continue, God made a difficult decision. As punishment for their neglect, He banished Libertas to the Sun, commanding her to take up her torch and reignite the solar flame. The light she had once carried so freely was now bound to the Sun, and she would illuminate the heavens, but from afar. Nyx, heartbroken, remained on Solius, her nights now lonelier than ever.

But God, in His infinite wisdom, did not sever their bond completely. Once every three years, during a solar eclipse, the shadow of the Moon would pass between Solius and the Sun, and in that brief moment, Nyx and Libertas would be reunited, their love rekindled under the darkness that bridged the light.