Lost Soul
"They say my soul is lost. I say it¡Çs not too late for me to win it back."
Prerequisite: Tiefling, any arcane class
The nobility of ancient Bael Turath made certain promises in exchange for power, but your compact with hell is something new. To put it bluntly, you¡Çve sold your soul for power. Deep in the Nine Hells, an archdevil holds a contract willingly signed in your hand with your blood.
At the time, the bargain seemed like a good idea: trade away something with no material worth for secrets of arcane power. But the more you learn, the more you worry that you¡Çve underestimated the value of what you gave up.
Many have forsaken you, perhaps even some of your own friends. But you hold out hope that you can change the destined tragic ending of your story. After all, you helped write it, so why can¡Çt you alter the tale? If nothing else, you¡Çll use the power you¡Çve been given to make the collection of your soul more costly than the holder of the contract expects it to be.
Lesser souls than you were overwhelmed by their study of the uncaring stars. Instead of commanding their own fate, they were transformed into mere pawns and cultists. With features shadowed under voluminous hoods, they toppled glare-eyed and drool-speckled into the clutch of mad entities. That is not to be your fate. You¡Çve divined a different truth in the cold pinpricks in night¡Çs endless void. Instead of pawn, you intend to be the master. You plan to have your force of will shine, burning forever. Unlike other stars that serve as windows, perhaps, to monstrous entities of an impossibly distant realm, your radiance is merely your own cognizance spreading ever outward.
The unschooled believe a radiant one is nothing more than a servitor to the vast enigmatic creatures you court. True, others who have traveled your path have burned out, unleashing cataclysms that killed allies, corrupted monarchs, and even laid waste to kingdoms (and some whisper, previous ages of the world). You know these cautionary tales, and so forewarned you are forearmed should any of the powers from whom you draw your strength seek to suborn your will. Your allies have nothing to fear from you—if you are careful.
Immortality
Ultimate knowledge, bereft of all filters, easy illusions, and misleading metaphors is what you seek. Soon enough, it will all be yours.
First Light: When you complete your final quest, the last pieces of the puzzle of reality begin to fall into place. The stars themselves begin to sing to you, their sibling. You begin to gleam, as if your skin is but a shell covering a mighty lamp. Upon putting your affairs in order, you travel to a far place. Finally, you ignite in an explosion of stellar glory. Like a demigod, you ascend into the night sky, becoming finally a star yourself—one associated with eldritch wisdom. Or, perhaps, madness. Either way, your name takes its rightful place among the constellations.