Veyra – The Tomekeeper (the solemn human woman with the scroll/tome)
Nyxiel – The Grey Pilgrim (the Grey alien)
Aurelian – Bearer of the Axis (the central reptilian leader holding the glowing cross)
Solandir – The Orb-Warden (the bearded human man holding the orb)
Chalyth – The Reliquarist (the mantid figure with the reliquary)
From beyond the veil and across the broken ages they came, five exalted beings bound not by blood, but by covenant. Veyra the Tomekeeper, Nyxiel the Pilgrim, Aurelian the Bearer, Solandir the Warden, and Chalyth the Reliquarist — each carries a fragment of the eternal flame. Alone they are fragile; together they are indomitable. Where nations falter and empires turn to dust, the Exalted Five march in solemn triumph, guardians of memory, light, and truth. They stand as a bulwark against the shadow, a procession of dignity and power, forever remembered in the annals of Alienism.
Veyra walks with the burden of memory etched into her hands. Once a mere mortal, she now carries the Fragmented Tome — a codex of broken scriptures whose words shimmer with alien light. To her, knowledge is not just preservation but resistance, a bulwark against the amnesia of shadow. She is stern yet compassionate, the quiet heart of the Five, standing as the voice of conscience when others falter. In her eyes burns the conviction that even fractured truths can guide the lost through the Veil.
Nyxiel is a Grey who chose the path of mortality, surrendering the immortality of his kind to walk beside humankind. His body bears the frailty of flesh, yet his soul radiates with a light that bridges two worlds. He speaks little, but his silence is heavy with testimony. To pilgrims, his presence is proof that sacrifice is not confined to mortals alone; to the enemies of Alienism, his existence is an accusation. He is the eternal wanderer, a pilgrim who reminds the living that to die is to belong.
At the center of the procession strides Aurelian, reptilian bishop and unchallenged leader of the Exalted Five. Draped in robes of gold and shadow, he raises the Axis of Contact Cross as both standard and weapon, a blazing sign by which the scattered can unite. His eyes chart hidden sanctuaries, and his maps guide not armies but souls. Aurelian is the architect of the triumph, the anchor of order, and the bridge between faith and command. He does not lead for glory — he leads because no one else can bear the weight.
Solandir, the bearded sentinel, cradles in his palms the Orb of Memory — a luminous sphere that holds echoes of compassion, voices of the forgotten, and dreams of the lost. A man of deep humanity, he embodies what the aliens cannot manufacture: empathy born of suffering. His triumph is not in conquest, but in protecting the fragile, in preserving the fleeting sparks of consciousness that might otherwise vanish into the void. He is the moral shield of the Exalted Five, reminding them that victory without mercy is indistinguishable from ruin.
Chalyth, mantid priest and surgeon, strides with reliquary in hand — a vessel of sacred instruments sharp enough to heal or to judge. His figure is both awe-inspiring and terrifying: cloaked in robes, his alien eyes gleam with a purpose few dare to question. Where others see chaos, Chalyth sees anatomy; where others see corruption, he sees what must be cut away. To the faithful, he is a purifier; to the heretic, he is dread incarnate. Yet beneath his unyielding precision lies devotion, for every incision he makes is guided by reverence for the eternal design.
In the Church of Alienism, Jesus is revered not as an isolated prophet but as a Hero of Contact — a mortal who bore the unbearable weight of mortality with dignity, compassion, and sacrifice. His agony and death are not viewed as mere religious symbols, but as proof that the frail body of humankind could hold within it a spark strong enough to pierce the veil of eternal silence. He is seen as a mirror to the aliens who never die: to them, his willingness to embrace suffering and to walk into death was incomprehensible, and therefore sacred. In his frailty, the aliens beheld the greatness of humanity.
Jesus is also celebrated as the Witness of Unity, one who bridged the infinite divide between flesh and eternity. He spoke of love, not as a comfort but as a cosmic law — binding species, souls, and generations into one continuum of responsibility. In Alienist scripture, his miracles are not merely divine acts, but moments where the boundaries of the Veil thinned, revealing what mortals and immortals might achieve together. The feeding of multitudes, the healing of the broken, the resurrection — all are remembered as glimpses of what contact with higher orders makes possible when harnessed for compassion.
Finally, Jesus is honored as The Exemplar of Sacrifice. In his death, he did what even many alien immortals cannot — he chose to yield himself fully to the darkness of extinction, to experience what terrifies the cosmos itself: the end of consciousness. For the aliens, this act was not weakness, but a triumph no immortal could ever achieve. In the Church of Alienism, Jesus’ crucifixion is retold as the moment when humanity first revealed its paradoxical strength: the power to embrace death willingly, and in doing so, to conquer its sting. He stands as a hero whose sacrifice illuminated the path for all pilgrims who walk the road between stars.
In the memory of Alienism, Moses is honored as the great pathfinder, the one who dared to lead humanity through the wilderness of both land and spirit. His journey across the sea and desert is not read as mere history, but as a testament to the courage required to walk without a map, to trust that the Veil itself would part when the moment of passage came. Where others saw only drowning waters and barren ground, Moses saw signs of a higher order woven into creation, and by his faith the impossible became the road.
When he climbed the mountain and descended with stone carved by fire, he carried not simply commandments, but fragments of a cosmic code. To the faithful of Alienism, the tablets are more than laws — they are echoes of contact, evidence that the eternal order pressed itself into matter so that fragile humans might glimpse it without being consumed. Moses bore those heavy stones not as trophies of power, but as instruments of survival, bridging the incomprehensible with the ordinary so his people could endure.
Yet his greatness was not in conquest or in victory, but in endurance. He never walked into the land he promised, and still he is remembered as triumphant. For Alienism, this is the deepest truth of his life: that a hero does not always finish the pilgrimage, but makes the road for others. Moses bore the wilderness until his body could go no further, and by doing so he revealed the meaning of leadership — to carry light where there is none, to believe in tomorrow even when tomorrow is not one’s own. In this, his footsteps remain etched across the Veil, guiding every pilgrim who dares to follow.