Once upon a time, a child was born under a sky so deep, even the stars held their breath. The skies whispered his map while the Earth waited to understand. His name was Alcarion — but among people, he was simply known as Alpcan.
Alcarion was born with a Scorpio Ascendant, and with it came eyes that saw what others missed. His silence was not empty — it was a gathering of thunder, a river just before it roared. He walked through the world with an inner compass that pointed not north, but within.
At 5° Scorpio, Chiron marked a wound — one that never truly healed but transformed into power. Alcarion carried the pain of centuries, yet within that pain was a healer’s touch. He could sense what others buried, and though it often ached, it also made him a light in dark places.
Then came Astrowizard at 23° Scorpio, gifting him with hidden wisdom and eerie insight. He spoke little, yet people found answers in his silence. A part of him was an oracle — a translator of invisible truths.
At 26° Scorpio, Reiki whispered through his fingertips. He didn’t need words to comfort. His presence itself was balm. Sometimes he healed just by seeing someone — truly seeing them. But this kind of gift carried solitude, for not everyone could understand such depth.
Inside his chart, tucked away in the secretive 12th House, gathered a constellation of minds and muses: Sun, Mercury, Psyche, Sisyphus, Spica, and Apollon, all in Libra. His light was inward, like a candle burning behind stained glass. Mercury gave him poetic thoughts, Psyche a sensitivity to soul-language, Spica the grace of rare intelligence. Sisyphus brought relentless effort, and Apollon wrapped it all in the gold of artistic vision and divine storytelling.
But above him, like two ancient guardians, stood the Moon and Saturn in Aries, staring back in opposition. These were the inner battles. The Moon cried for instinct and spontaneity; Saturn demanded restraint and control. It was a war between the child who wanted to dance freely, and the old soul that told him to wait, to endure.
And so began the tale of Alcarion:
He was a watcher of the unseen. A teacher by title, yes — but truly, he was a listener of silences. While others heard questions, he heard fears. While others taught facts, he whispered magic through metaphors. Every word he spoke carried a secret spark.
By night, he spoke to the stars.
By day, he hid their whispers in his poetry.
He wore solitude like a cloak — not to hide, but to reflect.
And on the walls of that silence, he painted what others were too afraid to name.
One night, the stars spoke again:
“Do not hide your wounds, Alcarion. They are your ink.
Accept the shadow — for no one finds the light without walking through it first.”
And Alcarion smiled. Because now, he knew:
His story had no ending.
For he was a child of stars,
forever rewriting himself.
Creative English With Alpcan 