Handmade plushie with hand painted 3d mask- comes with a goodie bag of keychains, stickers and more! 
Long before the Earth forgot how to turn and the sky forgot how to glow, the cosmos whispered of a gentle spirit named Cloudius, born not of flesh, but of mist, dream, and sugar-sweet wind.
It is said when Nyx, the primordial night, fell in love with the quiet darkness and mist of Erebus, their sigh became a cloud spun with stardust and cotton-candy pink. Into it, Morpheus, god of dreams, breathed life. Thus, Cloudius was born — a fox-like demigod with fur soft as dawn’s first light, and eyes forever half-closed in serene slumber.
While Helios drove the sun blazing across the sky, it was Cloudius who followed behind him, floating upon rose-colored clouds, scattering sweet wind to soothe the earth from the sun’s harsh heat. His presence was the pastel hush of morning, the quiet breath before light fully blooms.
He did not command thunder or war. Instead, he ruled the soft things:
​The lull between lightning and thunder
​The first pink blush of sunrise on marble temples
​The dreams of shepherds sleeping by their fires
​The cotton-candy clouds that children believed tasted like heaven
It was said that if Helios were ever to falter, Cloudius would cradle the sun in his paws and ferry it across the sky on his drifting cloud-raft of sleep and light.
And then — the Apocalypse came. The Earth stilled. The sun refused to rise. Helios vanished. Panic devoured the world.
For three long years, Cloudius floated above a silent Earth, whispering dreams to those who still dared to sleep, feeding them hope spun from sweet air and moonlight. But gods were forgotten. Morpheus faded from memory and his parents drifted into darkness together, blaming themselves.  And Cloudius — powerless to move the sun — wept sugar-soft tears into the endless night.
Until Logan arrived.
It is believed now, that only strength could command the cosmos. But Cloudius knew the ancient law: the sun wakes only for those who still dream. So he descended from his cotton sky and whispered into Logan’s dreams — of warmth, fairness, and a sky reborn.
And Logan listened.
Now, as Logan carries the sun each day across the heavens without fail, it is said that Cloudius drifts quietly beside him, unseen but ever-there — spreading, sweet wind, across the sky so the world does not burn, so the dream does not die.