(The Expanse Above the Veil)
The Celestial Plain is not a kingdom, nor a palace of judgment. It is elevation without boundary — an expanse of ordered clarity that exists above the mortal sky.
Before the islands formed, it was the vantage from which the first division of existence looked down upon the formless sea. After the divine withdrawal, it did not disappear. It receded, lifting beyond reach while remaining structurally present.
It is not absent.
It is distant by design.
The Celestial Plain functions as the counterbalance to the Root Below.
Where the Root gathers weight, the Plain preserves structure.
Where depth accumulates memory and decay, the Plain maintains pattern and coherence.
It holds the original geometry of balance — the ideal state toward which shrine rites unconsciously align.
It does not impose order.
It remembers it.
The gods did not abandon the world in anger. Their departure established autonomy.
If the Celestial Plain remained fully present, mortal culture would calcify under divine certainty. Innovation, failure, oath, and consequence would lose meaning.
Distance allows choice.
The Age After the Kami exists because the sky no longer intervenes openly.
The Celestial Plain does not descend in spectacle. Its presence is subtle and harmonic.
It appears as:
Unnaturally clear dawn light after ritual completion
Shadows falling at impossible angles beneath sacred structures
A horizon that shines brighter than moonlight
Winds that change direction without storm
Shrines that resonate faintly at sunrise
These are not miracles.
They are alignments.
From purification and separation emerged three great presences associated with the Plain:
Hikarume — clarity and open sky
Tsoruun — reflection and stillness
Ravashii — wind and untamed motion
They do not rule from above. They manifest through atmosphere and cycle. Their influence is environmental rather than authoritative.
On rare nights, sailors report a luminous line stretching across the ocean’s edge — steady, silent, unreachable.
Some believe it to be a reflection of the Celestial Plain upon the waters. Others consider it a reminder of distance itself.
No vessel has reached it.
Currents bend subtly away from pursuit.
It may not be meant to be approached.
There are legends of mortals whose lives align so precisely with balance that they leave no residue upon death. No haunting. No echo. No downward pull.
Whether they rise to the Plain or simply dissipate into pattern is unknown.
What matters is this:
Alignment reduces weight.
The Celestial Plain does not rescue.
It does not punish.
It does not command.
It remains elevated so that mortals must define meaning themselves.
Asorai exists between two pressures:
Depth that gathers.
Height that preserves.
The islands endure because neither collapses into the other.
If the Celestial Plain were ever to descend in fullness, the autonomy of the mortal world would end.
Clarity would replace struggle.
And myth would cease to form.