In the silence between stars, he emerges — a stallion of midnight, his coat darker than the void, his mane whispering with the breath of distant galaxies. Upon him rests the adornment of ancient makers: filigree spun of sunfire, pendants that once swayed in the halls of forgotten kings. Each jewel is said to hold a captured star, a light bartered from heaven to earth. He is not bound by reins but by prophecy, moving as both omen and guardian through the velvet dark. Some say he carries the secrets of constellations; others believe he is the constellation, given breath and bone. Wherever he treads, silence deepens, and the heavens lean closer, as if to listen.