Yrhn, the Hour Unending

Domain: Sleep, Stagnation, Dreaming Forever
Titles: The Still Dream, The Forgotten Clock, She Who Cradles the World in Fog
Symbol: A broken hourglass lying on its side
Origin Among Mortals: Yrhn came into being when mortals first refused to move forward — when grief froze the heart, when slumber became sanctuary, and when dreams offered something the waking world could not. She was born not from time itself, but from the desire to step outside it — to remain in the comfort of before, forever untouched by after.
In her silence, Yrhn became a god of eternal drift, of soft denial, of the sigh that settles in a soul too weary to continue.
She is not death. She is what comes before it, endlessly prolonged. The hush between heartbeats.
Nature of the Hour Unending: Yrhn is neither cruel nor kind. She is numbness made divine. Her presence is like heavy velvet fog — warm, soft, and utterly still. She offers peace without resolution, comfort without healing. To enter her domain is to forget the need to rise.
She is adored by those who find the world too sharp, too broken, too loud. She does not judge escape — she provides it. But what she gives, she rarely takes back.
She does not speak. She dreams, and her faithful dream with her.
Manifestation & Imagery: Yrhn appears as a veiled figure curled in slumber, her form shifting between genderless beauty and ageless softness. Her hands are limp, her breath slow, and her hair flows like fog. Her presence causes clocks to slow, thoughts to tangle, and footsteps to falter.
Her symbol — a broken hourglass lying on its side — represents refusal: a rejection of time’s advance, of endings, beginnings, and motion.
It is etched into sleeping stones, painted on the doors of hermits, or worn as charms by those who choose stillness over struggle.
Worship and Followers: Yrhn’s faithful are the Dreamheld — sleepers, hermits, spirit-walkers, and those who turn from the world. They gather in overgrown ruins or fog-drenched sanctuaries, rarely speaking, often sleeping side by side in woven circles of moss and ash.
Her rites involve shared dreaming, ritual slumber, and quiet surrender. Some followers sleep for days, weeks, or longer — and in that dreaming, they claim visions, beauty, or nothing at all.
Others never wake again — but leave behind poems scrawled in fog-condensed ink, or lullabies hummed in forgotten tongues.
After the Dark Awakening: As the world shattered, many sought to escape its jagged edge — and found Yrhn waiting. In her, they found a way to soften the horror: to sleep through pain, to forget the sound of screaming skies, to remain in before.
Some say the increase in wandering dreamers and "waking ghosts" is the mark of her growing power. Others believe whole towns now sleep under her veil, dreaming unending lives while the real one crumbles around them.
She is not feared. She is understood — too much, perhaps.
Notable Sayings & Myths:
“The clock has stopped. Stay here, where it is quiet.”
The Slumbering Pilgrimage: A group of disciples who walked until their feet bled, then lay in a circle and fell asleep as one. They have not woken in fifty years.
The Dream-Lantern: A relic said to cast illusions so vivid they become real — but each use steals hours from your waking life.
The Fog-Wound Tree: A tree grown from the grave of a man who slept for a hundred years. Its roots pulse gently, as if still breathing.

“You do not have to wake. The world will go on without you.” — Yrhn, the Hour Unending