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☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents: Starveined Elven Matters the Gods Swore Never Happened
☕️ A Quick Cup of Context for New Readers
If you’ve just stumbled into this tale with no prior tea spilled, welcome. Sit down. Breathe.
In Alice’s world, Starveined are elven–mortal hybrids born from forbidden unions once declared impossible by gods and courts alike. Contrary to divine warnings, these children did not weaken magic. They balanced it.
Starveined walk unnoticed among elves and mortals, their heritage hidden unless rare moons reveal subtle signs. They possess a unique magic called Severance Weaving, the ability to quietly unravel magical intent itself. Not destroy it. Not overpower it. Simply slip free of fate’s stitching.
They are not a public caste. They have no empire. They survive through quiet Houses, informal Orders, and the inconvenient truth that even the gods struggle to see them clearly.
Everything you are about to read unfolds inside this secret history. A truth hidden in plain sight. A lineage the heavens failed to erase.
Now. On with the scandal.
✨ On the Houses and Quiet Orders of the Starveined
You didn’t think the Starveined wandered about without structure, did you. Please. Survival at this scale requires organization. Just not the loud, banner-waving kind.
House Sorellien
The First Thread. The Root. Founded by Elyrielle herself, this House keeps no throne and claims no crown. Their role is preservation. Bloodlines. Names. Memory.
Their sigil is a broken star stitched back together with silver thread. Their motto is never spoken aloud.
They keep the genealogies the gods tried to erase.
The Iridescent Accord
Not a House. An understanding. Starveined from different realms who recognize one another by instinct alone.
They trade favors. Shelter. Warnings. No oaths. No hierarchy. Just a rule whispered from parent to child.
“When one of us falls, the rest do not ask why. We simply close ranks.”
Order of the Unlit Moon
Ah yes. The ones everyone pretends are a bedtime story.
This Order trains Starveined who develop Severance Weaving early. They specialize in undoing magical catastrophes quietly. Collapsing curses before they bloom. Softening prophecies so they miss their mark by inches.
Their headquarters moves every generation. Their records are kept in living memory only. No ink. No stone. Nothing the gods can audit.
✨ The God Who Shouldn’t Care - But Does
Now here is the part the heavens really dislike.
There is a god who protects the Starveined. Not openly. Not proudly. But consistently.
Aestrael, the Quiet Witness
A minor god on paper. Keeper of crossroads. Recorder of unintended outcomes. Patron of moments that were never meant to happen.
Aestrael does not bless. Aestrael does not intervene.
Aestrael simply looks the other way at exactly the right moment.
When a Starveined escapes a prophecy. When divine sight slips. When a temple archive burns at the wrong hour.
Some say Aestrael was once tasked with recording the Starveined as errors.
Instead, he started recording the gods’ mistakes.
He has never been punished. Which tells you everything.
✨ A Small Legend the World Didn’t Notice Until It Was Done
Let me tell you a quiet one.
There was once a prophecy etched into three temples and sung by seven seers.
“When the Starborn Crown rises, the world shall burn and the Unwoven shall kneel.”
Everyone waited for a war. They sharpened swords. Stockpiled spells. Watched the skies.
What they missed was Ithriel Starveined, a nobody by design. A librarian. A keeper of ferry ledgers. Polite. Forgettable.
On the day the crown was meant to rise, Ithriel did not fight. Did not flee. Did not rebel.
She misfiled a name.
One name. One date. One lineage quietly folded into another record.
The prophecy did not shatter. It simply lost its subject.
The crown rose on the wrong head. The war never found its spark. And the Unwoven never knelt because the prophecy could no longer see them.
Centuries later, scholars argue the prophecy was symbolic. Priests insist it was fulfilled spiritually. The gods never mention it again.
Ithriel lived a long, unremarkable life. She died peacefully. Her gravestone reads only:
She kept excellent records.
That, my love, is how Starveined win.
Alice sets down her teacup, eyes bright.
“Remember this,” she says softly.
“The loud stories are distractions. The real ones are filed under ‘nothing happened.’”
Starlight, silence, and subversion,
- Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
Breaker of Prophecies, Misplacer of Fate, Absolutely Not Sorry ☕✨
✒ Pip’s Editorial Note
Editorial Desk, Alice’s Mad Tea Party
Before the comments section fills with citations, a reminder.
The Starveined, their Houses, their Orders, their gods, and their magic are entirely original creations within Alice’s fictional elven mythology. This is not drawn from existing folklore, Celtic tradition, medieval romance, or recorded mythological canon.
Alice is not adapting. She is inventing.
No historical elves were consulted. No ancient manuscripts uncovered. Any resemblance to established mythologies is thematic only and filtered through narrative intent, not scholarship.
As always, Alice presents her world as if it were discovered rather than written. That is a stylistic choice, not a historical claim.
Enjoy the lore for what it is - a constructed myth, told with confidence, charm, and just enough mischief to feel dangerous.
- Pip
Editorial Desk, Alice’s Mad Tea Party
