In this universe, every thinking being exists because of a spark—a remnant left behind when the gods failed to complete their design of perfect servants. A spark is not a soul in any spiritual sense, but a fragment of awareness itself: it grants cognition, identity, and the capacity to act with intent.
Sparks move freely through existence, entering living forms and departing at death, where they briefly drift before finding a new host. Different species have adapted to this cycle in radically different ways. Some can only reproduce when a spark finds them, while others physically divide once a new spark enters their body. Rarely, multiple sparks inhabit a single form, creating individuals of unusual capability—and instability.
Over time, intelligent civilizations have learned not only to observe sparks, but to interfere with them. Humans trap dying sparks within machines, creating artificial minds that blur the line between person and construct. Others harvest or manipulate sparks as energy, tools, or objects of belief. Across cultures, one truth remains constant: control over sparks means control over life itself.
Beyond the settled systems, at the dim edges of the galaxy, linger the exiled gods—the ones who failed even by the standards of their kind. Cut off from the great forge at the galaxy's heart, they survive by feeding on corrupted sparks: fragments twisted by suffering, fragmentation, or forced containment. These beings drift in the dark between stars, patient and diminished, shaping what little power they can from decay. Some believe they are gathering strength, waiting for a path back inward—toward the forge that once birthed sparks freely—where they might finish what was abandoned, or unmake what remains.
What remains uncertain is whether sparks are still being created—or whether all thinking life now depends on a finite, diminishing inheritance from forgotten gods.