The second of the three primaries, Syrecon is the blessed great serpent ordained to be the highest form of judgement and counseling of the High Heavens, the benefactor to beastialkind, and the shifter to the celestial cosmos. He is of seemingly infinite size and length, and is considered to be the literal embodiment of the Great Divide—the separation between that of the Known and its opposite, the Void. However, his duties lie with the responsibility of moving the constant, ever changing torrent of the cosmic maelstrom, which shifts the stars and other celestial bodies perpetually. Within a patch of nebula called the Starsinct, his body is split halfway lengthwise, and while his lesser half weaves the barrier against the Void, the other presides within an area known as the Plinth, a sacred and ancient ephemeral altar within the wake of a dead star where his visage manifests to give judgement, wisdom, and guidance to those who seek or deserve it.

There are differing tales which pose the true purpose of the Grandserpent, and his nature, however. Due to his bestial appearance, there is a cultural rift and conflict which follows to stir at the commendation of the roles he serves for the World and its Sunlands, deterring many from the unlikeliness and inhumanness. Humankind harbors friction against the beasts of the lands, which themselves give a reverence to the Grandserpent, for he represents a sacred relationship with the majesty of the skies and their godlier stars. His prominent size lends to interesting mingling with many stories, tales, and events throughout history, that of the millions of scales that lay upon his body, some have shed and fallen away across the heavens for the spirits, wanderers and gatherers alike to find or carry elsewhere; they may be a token of protection, or markers and curios for which beings have treasured, interpreted, and took inspiration from. Aside from this, Syrecon has acted as both guide and guidance, as he forever carries with him the pledge of correction; the system of order which started in the First Dawn, and so affects the very courts and tribunals within the kingdoms of present: that which is the moral judgment and boon which matures into intelligence in the pursuit of the Eternal Endeavor.

Prudence

The first of the triadic ideal is the ability that all are born with, but none have mastered: the executor of judgement, and its two faces. All things, of might and mortality, halt before the long road forward, and before them all lies the endlessness of option. It may stretch forever, stop before beginning, bend behind their advance, break into nothing or many, and encircle into all of the above—or none at all. Yet, the traveler knows that every step demands a price, and every stop is seldom the truest one. A clever navigator knows he may never be lost, even directionless, and a good leader knows to wear the robes and hold the blade when he must, and imparts them behind to the next who follows when he should. Not always will it be found, however, and not always will it be given. The World’s winds may whisk it away, the rivers may swallow it to drown, or the mountains may break it whole; its expanse convinces its people it may never exist, or lies and gives them untruths to veil the veracious one. Fickle as it may be, if found, all may face desire and disgust, pleasure and peril, bias and brilliance, but never nothingness, because on their shoulders wears caution, and in their hands is the weapon of judgement: a blade not sharp but firm enough, a hilt not elegant but necessary, and a handle not for show but with purpose. Within its swing is not of malice, not of joy nor desire, but simply to live. It is stripped bare, and knows only from that moment for why it moves: because of choice.

Resilience

A measure of a being is not only found by their decisions afterwards, but their resolve to carry them onwards. The navigator witnesses not the shadow of the mountains, but their unbending strength; their stability, infallibility, and immutability. In their faces the wind flickers and cleaves, storms exhaust themselves against their body, and seasons dance near their bases. Fully fledged, resilience stands unshaken under control, unspoken under chaos, and unaffected under time. Yet, mountains are not born, but made, and so owe themselves to each of their adversaries. Wind, though biting, still carves. Storms, though beating, still feeds, and seasons, though endless, still renew. Without them, the sanctuary of a body is nothing more than a sentence. Infallibility becomes immovability; immutability: a permanence. The mind too guarded becomes a stone in the flow of a river. Even a mountain, grand as it seems, may sink beneath its own weight and curse the heavens it never could reach. But a person, it is said, truly only dies when they refuse to let themselves change. To walk the path and all its woes is not the refusal to bend, but the wisdom to remain whole while allowing the World to shape what is meant to be shaped.

Clarity

Yet, neither an executor of any might nor fortitude that follows can flourish where vision is clouded, for the pursuance of a choice, no matter how right, is myopic—and its devotion, no matter how strong, is entropic. The clearest paths are nothing without their ends, and the highest mountains lose themselves among the World to its brumes. To be shaped is to endure, but to shape through clarity is to enact—free without fear, without pride, without hate, without desire—to see the expanse before them and all its perils, pitfalls, rivers and rainfalls. Though not always is the World good or bad, clear or clouded; and so an eye that sees best is one impartial to the light and dark, that it may see better if closed. Yet clarity, pursued without measure, makes eyes nothing more than to witness and imbibe. A traveler becomes nothing more than a seer who understands every road but chooses none of them. A navigator wanders forever in search of a home never there. A leader who misunderstands their role becomes the failures they once faced. To be wise is to know where it may be found, as wisdom is not the library of solutions within a sage, but rather the sage within a library of solutions.

The nature of Syrecon’s triad implores nearly all beings to exert, explore, and execute them in their Endeavor, though they are most prolific in collaborative institutions. The scholars of academies, judicators of various courts and tribunals, and even spiritualists of various sects practice intently the teachings of the Judge. Yet, there is an aforementioned rift from outside scrutiny due to the ideal’s less-human appearance. It has been noted that even beasts seem to ‘worship’ a form of the ideal, though insufficient studies make the topic indiscernible at the commonalities held. Many speculate that some heroes of old, both vindictive villains and calamitous tragedies have come to end only due to him. To those who attest to dreaming of the plinth, they have all stated exerpiencing a form of enlightenment at best, and a change of heart at worst. Within the First Dawn, a story tells of the meeting of the leading children of the Hearthcity who believed that they could not venture and vanquish the Great Enemies without an emblem or a mark of guidance. Though they troubled themselves in finding a way to amend this, Syrecon believed that the light of stars were fitting enough to repel all darkness, and dared to bring one as the solution. Along with the Hinwolf, Arabas, he took hold of a gold staff with his teeth and mounted the winds. Though the tale later states that he forgave his role in capturing one (as evident to the Hinwolf’s role in fetching the sun instead), he willingly stayed within the heavens and solidified himself as the banner of the skies for the Hearthcity. In his lone, ascetic pursuit for enlightenment and study of the milieu of the heavens, the Grandserpent eventually consumed a star instead, an endeavor so changing to the body that it grew to the noted size, and for an unspecific amount of time, granted him a form of enlightenment. From his maw an unerasable light returns (the brightest in the heavens), and the name of Seirios was given. The dichotomy of both halves of Syrecon inhabit the World in more ways than one; good and bad, dark and light, clarity and ambiguity—all form a delicate balance to the sway of life. It inspires the chase of hesitancy, a rare but commanding characteristic in relation towards the other ideals. Like blood to a body, the presence of resilience can both hinder and help change, like that of the Keeper Meyiscin’s, or the internal power of the Grand Fury, Immirus. Curious as the Judge is, the virtue of clarity demands a restraint, often opposing the Unsung’s inherent want for answer. Where one believes that answers may be found anywhere, the Grandserpent knows that the best one lies underneath the toll of circumspection, and the power of wisdom. On the other hand, the nature of caution, though slow, binds well with the restraint and conviction of the Hinwolf, Arabas, which is noted upon their journeying into the heavens. To enact the executor upon the power of humility and derive a light of knowing where weakness lies, fear resides, and wrath complies, is nothing short of the myst that once shaped the divines and their heavens.