Also referenced as: The Crown of Light, the Coronet of Victory, the Horned Halo
This relic was damnably hard to trace, and it was Maral who realized the blasted thing appeared in more than one place. The oldest name it was given suggests an instrument, as seen in countless paintings of angel's blowing their trumpets, but the truth was that it was actually a helmet. A horned helmet.

In its earliest recorded appearance, the helm seemed to be nothing more than a symbol of authority, a ceremonial item that marked the leader of the angelic hosts of its homeworld. Some unknown cataclysm occurred and when next it appeared, it was in the possession of a church on a world where angels had become nothing more than myth. How it got there is a total mystery, as well as the final fate of its makers. It is on this new world that the true depth of its power began to show. It remained in the collection for centuries, an oddity that inspired legends and belief, but it was poorly understood. The ones who held it had no idea what it truly meant, and what they thought they learned from it was very misunderstood.

What comes next is a confused mess of incomplete records. Some threat arose, it is unclear of its nature, but in desperation the church turned to the artifact. The woman chosen for the task had no clue what she was being asked to do, as none in the church knew what power it may hold, but they were in terrible danger and their options were dwindling so swiftly that a desperate act was all that was left to them. Their martyr was transformed when they placed the item on her head, proving that the helmet was more than merely ceremonial, and she underwent apotheosis, reborn in fire and became an angel herself. She wiped out the threat and gave rise to a new angelic army to keep the kingdom secure.

However, the story does not end there. While peace reigned, discontent began to grow in the angelic ranks. The crime in the nation was seen as a sign of corruption in the leadership, and before long, a violent revolution tore the country apart. The archangel seized power and turned the kingdom into a totalitarian state. Under the blade of the angels, oppression ran rampant until revolution came again, toppling the angelic powers and tearing the kingdom apart for good. The Horns of the Archangel vanish then, only to appear once more elsewhere. We can only be thankful that the helmet seems to spend most of its time in dormancy.

(Raleris's account of the history above is extremely dire, but in my travels, I encountered stories that paint a totally different picture. Most histories in which the Horns appear ends with an angelic coup, but several of those were peaceful and led to prosperity in the subsequent years. I believe it is tied to under what circumstances the Horns are donned. If worn for peace, they lead to peace. If worn for War, then a harsher fate is bound to follow.

The results of the apotheosis may also be drawn to the bearer's disposition, the alignment of their magic and their identity which influences what ultimately becomes of the helmet's bearer. There are a lot of answers I don't have about the relic and until I can work out more about it, I'm placing it in the secure vault.

I... am very pensive at the similarities of this relic's abilities and the Rapture of Elysium.
-Maral)

Also reference as: Time Breaker, the Night Disk
What has passed cannot be undone. It is a law of nature, but to those with great power, even the laws of time and space seem mutable and desperation drives those with that kind of power to terrifying ends.

The Wheel of Night found its genesis at the hands of a fallen angel. She had been cast from her host centuries before, and in all that time, one simple thing had driven her to obsession. She wished for nothing more than to restore the grace she had lost. Not much is spoken of angelic artificers or their capacity as scholars, but she had once been one of the brightest. She spent the time following her fall searching for some way to undo the horrible mistakes she’d made. In the darkest corners of the Pit she’d been cast into, she worked, scrawling numbers and figures upon every surface of the cavern she dwelt in. Using divine equations and hellish geometry, she crafted a device that would offer her salvation at last. Centuries of work upon her arcane calculations finally bore results, and those took the shape of the Nocturne Wheel.

The device, according to every reckoning she could answer, offered her a chance to literally undo her time, to restore herself to an earlier state from before she was corrupted. With trembling hands, she lifted the machine and used it. Her dream was finally realized and the centuries melted from her… and the very artifact that allowed this corrupted her all over again. Aghast, she used it again, rewinding further, but the act itself was a perversion of all that is sacred. As the realization came upon her, her mind snapped and she drove herself further and further back, sure that if she could only restore herself just a little further back, she could attain her purity once more.

And she ceased to exist.

The Wheel fell where she had stood and there it rested undisturbed for an unknown time. No other resident of hell would touch it, somehow being too profane for even their depravity. But where there is great power, there will always be those foolish enough to wield it. It appears a necromancer gained possession of it, I don’t know how, and used the artifact to try to cheat death of its rightful possession as he grew older. There is some irony since the very thing that fuels the terrible energies of the Wheel is the force of life itself. It restored his youth, certainly, but at the cost of nearly everything that remained of his life. The device had been meant only for the hands of an immortal, someone with unlimited life to give.

There are sparse notes following its path across the cosmos, but whatever mysteries the machine might possess, I am not sure if they should be unraveled.

(I hate this thing. I can hear it clicking somewhere deep in my soul any time I touch it. I’ve taken to wearing thick gloves when I have to move it, otherwise I try to have nothing to do with it. The worst part is that it is far more aware than other relics I have encountered. It seems… for lack of a better word, curious. There are times when I feel like it’s staring at me and others when I think it is actually a shadowy figure dotted with pinpoints of light. When I turn to look, it’s never there. In times like these, I wonder what actually becomes of the life it drinks to fuel its mechanisms.

I have no idea what the internal mechanisms of the device look like, but considering the insane geometry that must have gone into it, I doubt I could possibly understand it. The outer casing is cast in silver, and the interior is filled with what I can only call shards of the night sky in the shadows of the twisting gears. It reminds me, vaguely, of Nyx, but there is something subtly different about it.

The one thing I have learned that was not in Raleris’s notes was that it does not just restore youth. It is capable of completely manipulating the time of an object. It can accelerate an object’s age as well as reverse it, reduce a living being into a skeleton in the span of a breath.
-Maral)