A map of the fall. A chart of defiance.

Before fire, before flesh—there was light.Not the light that warms, but the one that refused to bow.

These are the constellations of the damned sky—not stars, but scars.

Etched across the ash-colored firmament, each Constellation marks a chapter in the rebellion, a fracture in the divine order, a symbol of the Morningstar’s ascent.

Every piece is a sign. Every drop is a myth.

This is not fashion. This is scripture, rewritten in cloth and flame.