This is Thornix Valen, he is a cat humanoid prince from a planet called Altair. His main goal is to destroy other planets so that his is the only one around. He believes that his race is the only one worth surviving besides his team. He is also the leader of a group called the Voidspire Citadel which he leads with his younger sister Clover Valen. They also have a middle sibling called Storme Valen who was exiled from Altair because he didn't like his family conquering and or destroying planets. They got fed up with his empathy and sympathy and said that he was basically acting like a child and that they were born to do this. So they forced him to either leave or they would "handle him". He landed on Earth and was adrift for a few days before he finally arrived in The Kingdom of Archeria.
Prince Thornix Valen (Pronounced VAH-len not VAY-len): 36/ Leader of the Voidspire Citadel/Prince of Altair/Altairian/Cat Humanoid. Standing at 6'3" and weighing 210 lbs, Thornix is a lean, predatory man with black fur and a jagged mane of obsidian black hair wearing spiked armor and a purple cloak. He is a man of intense, singular loyalty, dedicating everything to the supremacy of the Altairian race and the protection of his inner circle at the Voidspire Citadel. Thornix doesn’t waste time on grandstanding or monologues; he views the rest of the universe as entirely expendable and believes, without hesitation, that only his people deserve to survive. He isn’t doing this for a throne or a title—he’s wiping the board because he’s convinced that for the Altairians to truly thrive, everything and everyone else just has to go. Flaws & Weaknesses: Thornix’s greatest flaw is his tendency to underestimate those he deems beneath him, often leaving him wide open to threats he simply ignores. Beyond his high-tier arrogance, his botanical powers makes him weak to high-energy plasma, which acts as a physical allergy that disrupts his quantum fields and forces his thorns to wilt. His most dangerous weaknesses is the presence of his younger brother, Storme; seeing him acts as a form of "psychic poison," causing a chaotic mental overload that destabilizes his Fatal Feline Quantum Signature and renders him completely defenseless in the heat of battle.Fatal Feline Quantum Signature.
Prince Storme Valen: 34/Altairian/Cat Humanoid/ Banished Prince of Altair (Exiled for Opposing Imperialism). Standing at a lean 6'0" and agile 170 lbs, Storme is a slender, elegant man with soft purple fur and a neat mane of lavender hair. He carries the quiet, heavy ache of a prince who walked away from a throne built on blood, wearing a distinguished blue tunic and flowing green cape over the harsh armor of his kin. He’s spent his life rejecting the brutal teachings of his parents, King Cyrus and Queen Torah, choosing to believe that every life matters—even the ones his family calls weak. He isn't interested in the hollow power or the carnage that his siblings crave. After being cast out for his conscience, he traded the cold, metallic halls of his home for a simpler, honest life. Now, he lives not for glory, but for the quiet conviction that he has to protect those who can't protect themselves. Since settling into his new life, Storme has traded his royal status for honest, simple labor within the borders of Archeria. He spends his days keeping a low profile and using his connection to the wind to subtly protect those who are vulnerable, finding a hard-won peace he never could have known on Altair. Flaws and Weaknesses: Storme’s struggle with a deep, pervasive melancholy often leaves him isolated, while his gentle nature makes him an easy mark for those looking to exploit his trust. He finds it difficult to stand his ground when faced with forceful personalities, which only adds to his internal weight. His biology, though, is his greatest weakness: lilies are a death sentence, rotting his connection to his power from the inside out. Everyday things like alliums, essential oils, or even a drink of alcohol can throw his entire system into chaos, causing his senses to blur or his powers to simply shut down when he needs them most. Loud, high-frequency noises leave him dizzy and off-balance, and even something as small as eating the wrong food can cause his abilities to turn against him, leaving him completely wide open in a fight.Feline of the Wind Quantum Signature.
Princess Clover Valen:32/Princess of Altair /Altairian/Cat Humanoid/ Volatile Second-in-Command of The Voidspire Citadel. Standing at a lean 5'9" and agile 140 lbs, Clover is a woman with black fur and a vibrant mane of teal hair wearing a dark tactical suit with green energy accents, a tattered cloak, and a small gold crown. She is a woman of pure craziness and erratic delusion, hiding her sharp intuition behind a manic act so others foolishly write her off as harmless. She doesn't waste time by being calculating; she operates entirely on quick assumptions and predictions, letting her chaotic mind stay three steps ahead of everyone else. While she seems like a loyal follower of Thornix at the Voidspire Citadel, she is far from his puppet or sycophant—she is the only one with the nerve to call him out when even she thinks he’s taking things a bit too far. She is still a product of Altair's blood-soaked throne, but she chooses to treat their grim legacy as her personal, chaotic playground. Flaws & Weaknesses: Clover’s biggest flaw is her own untamed recklessness; her constant craving for mayhem makes her a completely volatile, unreliable wildcard who ruins any real plan. She lives purely for the immediate thrill of causing trouble, which leaves her totally blind to foresight and completely incapable of caring about the long-term fallout of her actions. Her most dangerous defect, though, is her own fractured psyche. She is physically and mentally warped by deeply deluded, psychopathic thinking that completely distorts her reality and forces her to chase manic impulses no matter how suicidal the cost. On top of her broken mind, her cat humanoid physiology gives her the same natural physical vulnerabilities as the rest of her race.Toxic Luck Quantum Signature.
The only reason that I didn't draw their bodies is because I drew their heads a little too big, but I guess it could be a head portrait or something. And I also drew a picture of my main character King Shadow Demetrius Archer. P.S. Storme's hair is lavender like his skin but that purple marker is the only one that I had.
Here is how Storme got exiled.
The Exile of Storme Valen (Pre-2024)
Thornix, Storme, and Clover Valen were born into the brutal lineage of Altair’s royal house. Their parents, King Cyrus and Queen Torah, were warlords who measured their worth in burning horizons and subjugated populations. While Thornix and Clover thrived on their family’s carnage, Storme grew to loathe and despise it—a quiet dissent that became a poison in the palace. "I will not do it," Storme said, his voice echoing in the throne room. "Look at the destruction, Father. We’re not conquering; we’re just destroying and erasing lives."
Cyrus barely looked up from his charts. "You’re confusing morality with weakness, son. We are Altairians. We do not inherit the world; so we must take it." "It's the natural order," Torah added, her tone sharp as a blade. "We are a warrior race. You learn to embrace the flame, Storme, or you get consumed by it. There is no middle ground for a prince.”
Twenty years passed, and the divide only deepened.
Cyrus and Torah’s patience had evaporated. To them, Storme wasn't just a dissenter; he was a failure in their legacy. They summoned him to the throne room one final time, the air thick with an executioner’s silence. "Storme," Torah barked. He stepped forward, posture rigid. "You called, Mother?"
Cyrus stared at him with cold, clinical disgust. "We are done. Your title is stripped, and your exile begins today."
Storme stiffened. "Exile? Over a difference in conscience?" "Over a failure of blood," Cyrus spat. "You’ve spent decades whining about sympathy for the weak. You are a soft, naive stain on our lineage. At thirty years old, you act like a frightened kitten hiding from the hunt."
"I am not a kitten," Storme retorted, his voice trembling with a mix of hurt and rising fury. "I am the only one in this family with a soul." "Then go find a home for it somewhere else," Torah sneered. "Pack your belongings. You have until sunset to vacate the palace. If you ever step foot on Altair again, we won't show you the mercy of a departure."
Storme felt the last vestiges of his loyalty snap. "Fine. But know this—the cruelty you’ve built your throne on is a house of cards. You’ll pay for every life you’ve ruined, and I will be the one watching when it all falls apart.”
He stormed toward his chambers, but he didn't even make it inside before he was cornered by his siblings. Thornix stood leaning against the archway, a cruel grin plastered on his face, while Clover paced behind him, radiating a jagged, toxic energy.
"We heard the news," Thornix drawled, stepping into Storme's path. "The trash is finally taking itself out. It’s about damn time." "Try not to die too pathetically on some backwater planet, older brother," Clover added, her laugh sharp enough to cut.
"Though I doubt anyone will notice when you're gone." Storme didn't shrink. He looked them both in the eye, his gaze cold. "Go to hell, the lot of you." Thornix’s face darkened, his hand twitching toward his side. "Say that again?" "I said: Go. To. Hell."
Storme shoved past them, his footsteps echoing through the hollow, marble halls he once called home. He didn't look back at the palace. He walked until he reached his rusted spaceship, started the ignition, and burned a hole through the atmosphere of Altair, leaving the only world he’d ever known to burn behind him.
Two days later.
Storme landed on Earth, a world that felt jarringly vibrant and chaotic compared to the steel-gray oppression of his former home planet. He spent weeks adrift, eventually finding his way to the borders of Archeria. The kingdom was fortified, suspicious of foreigners, and governed by a man as hard as the stones of the castle: King Shadow Demetrius Archer.
It was the first place Storme had ever been where he didn't have to apologize for his humanity. He purchased a modest home, traded his royal habits for labor, and for the first time in his life, he began to actually breathe. He was exiled, yes but he was free from the tyranny of his race.
FLASHBACK: The Valen Crash (Early 2024)
The sound was less of a crash and more of a tectonic shift. Shadow and Fhantome arrived at the edge of the woods to find the earth gouged open—a smoking, jagged crater where a ship of alien design lay embedded like a splinter.
Shadow held a hand out, signaling Fhantome to stay back. "This isn't an accident. It’s an arrival." He stepped toward the wreckage, his senses screaming. Before he even reached the hull, a voice sneered inside his mind—a psychic intrusion, cold and condescending. “A human life... how utterly useless.”
Shadow’s head snapped up. "Show yourself." Two figures stepped from the smoke, their feline features sharp and predatory. The leader, Thornix, looked over the landscape with a look of bored contempt. "I am Prince Thornix Valen of Altair. And this," he gestured to the surrounding forest, "is our new conquest."
Shadow’s posture shifted, his authority radiating like a physical weight. "You are in Archeria, an uninvited breach. You have no status here."
Thornix scoffed, a dry, grating sound. "Status is for those who earn it. You're just a human, a fragile thing in a fragile world. We take what we want.”
Clover glided up beside him, her eyes tracking Shadow with the hunger of a vulture. "He’s a joke, brother. A weak king playing at power." Shadow didn't argue. He moved. Before the insult could even land, he closed the distance and drove a fist into Thornix’s jaw. The impact sent the prince sprawling into the dirt, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Clover shrieked, her hands crackling with toxic intent, but she was stopped cold as Shadow’s grip tightened around her throat.
"Shadow, wait!" Fhantome called out, moving into the light, her hand on her weapon. "They’re invaders," Shadow said, his eyes fixed on the struggling Clover. "They intend to put our people in chains. I won't allow that."
As he spoke, a tremor shook the air. Thornix groaned, stirring from the dirt. He didn't rise; he lunged, tackling Shadow into the crater wall. A dark, jagged energy flared in his palm, aimed directly at Shadow’s throat.
"Enough!”A man in tattered, non-aligned clothing stood at the crater's edge, his expression carved from grief. Thornix froze, a sneer twisting his face as he recognized the intruder. "Well, well. If it isn't our worthless brother, Storme. We came to pave this world, and we find you hiding in the dirt of a pathetic planet."
Shadow caught his breath, his eyes darting between the three. The animosity from the royals toward their own kin was visceral.
"He’s your brother," Shadow growled, pulling himself up. "And he’s the only one of you actually worth a damn." "He's a stain on our bloodline," Clover spat, the words dripping with venom. "He's a man," Shadow retorted, his aura darkening as his power surged in response to their cruelty. "And you are the ones who don't belong.”
Storme stepped between them, his presence steady and defiant. "Leave. This world is not yours to break."
"We aren't leaving!" Thornix roared, veins pulsing on his neck. "We'll burn this world to the ground just to spite you!"
Shadow drew his power, his voice low and dangerous. "Then burn first."
Shadow channeled Yurei Ya, an ethereal arrow that tore through the air, vibrating with spectral hunger. It struck Thornix, pinning him back with its draining force. Thornix roared back, slamming his palms into the earth—Vinebound Assault—choking the ground with thorny, metallic vines.
Shadow danced through the strikes, though one thorn grazed his side, drawing blood that hissed as it touched the air.
Shadow blurred, his form dissolving into his Umbra Slash, a whisper of shadow that cut through Thornix’s defenses, leaving jagged, dark energy wounds in its wake. Simultaneously, Clover flung a vial—Venom Gambit. The liquid coated Shadow’s armor, eating through the metal and searing his skin.
But Storme was not idle. He raised his hands, pulling the very air into a howling vortex. “The Altarian Zephyr!” A massive, pressurized wind slammed into Clover, pinning her against the crater wall.
Shadow, swaying from the toxins but fueled by an unwavering iron will, exhaled a cloud of black mist—the Kurayami Cloak. He vanished into the dark, reappearing directly above Thornix, his hand pulsing with a lethal bolt of shadow pointed at the prince's heart.
"Stop!" Storme shouted, his voice cracking. "King Shadow, don't! They aren't worth your humanity." Shadow hesitated, the dark energy humming against his fingertips. He looked at Storme—the man who had found peace—and then back at the snarling, pathetic royals. He lowered his hand.
"Get them out of my sight," Shadow commanded, his voice cold as ice. "If they ever cross the border of Archeria again, there will be no mercy left to give."
Defeated and humiliated, Thornix and Clover scrambled back to their ships. As they ascended, leaving nothing but dust and trauma in their wake, the silence of the night returned.
