It's very interesting that both Allura in this episode and Essek in 2.124 frame the Luxon as a pre-Founding entity that has been in Exandria since before the Primordials or the pantheon, because it really does complicate the idea of gods as a single unified classification. Discussions around, say, the Raven Queen's ascension and Artagan's godhood are interesting of course, but lend themselves to a hierarchy of being and power—mortals and archfey must be elevated to a higher position to reach a place among the gods—but the Luxon throws a wrench into the hierarchy itself.
Fandom discussions around the Luxon referring to it as an entity tend to feed into this hierarchy as well, even when framing the Luxon in a positive light, by placing the classification of god or deity as a literal higher power in a contemporary and very sociopolitical conceptualization of "power," positioning anything in that role as inherently oppressive, and I think this also does the conversation a disservice. A better metaphor, in my opinion, is to compare deities to the fundamental forces of physics.
The way that dunamis has been said to intertwine with reality on a minute level and the Luxon's extension of divine power without direct communication suggests to me that its power in relation to other deities is somewhat akin to gravity itself—gravity is the weakest of the fundamental forces, but much farther reaching, and therefore it exerts a massive influence on the cosmos in spite of that lesser strength.* This echoes the complexities of trying to rely upon a hierarchy of being in this discussion, because such hierarchies are always constructed and imposed, not inherent. Sometimes they are constructed by those positioned at the top, and other times not, but from any angle, regardless of field, they tend to be used to justify some moral stance and standing.
This is utterly negated by the Luxon's existence. Whatever can be said about it as an entity, it seems to be an inherently amoral being—it does not seem to concern itself with moral questions, and very possibly has no capacity to do so. At the same time, dunamis seems to be enmeshed within the reality of the Material Plane and the Weave itself, perhaps even the Skein of Fate—as described, dunamis may well be the very particulate matter comprising the choices of everything in the cosmos and how those choices intertwine.
The Raven Queen, as an ascended mortal, can look upon the individual heroes of the story and acknowledge them, validate them, but the Luxon has no inherent position from which to look, and as such evades any positionality within the constructed hierarchy upon which the questions of this campaign hinge.
*Complicating this metaphor is the fact that gravity's weakness means it doesn't exert significant influence on a micro scale, but I do not ever purport to suggest that dunamancy is a one-to-one mirror of the realities of quantum mechanics, not least because Matt is definitely no more a physicist than I am.
Imagine you've grown up on a spacestation. It's a major port, several times larger then most terrestrial cities. You've gotten to meet people, from all around the known universe, cultures with diffrent gods, diffrent tongues, diffrent systems of government, even some that aren't even fully human anymore through genetic engineering and adaptation.
And for your entire life you've heard about planets. Most media, from the strangest fantasy stories, to the most mundane dramas, take place on planets and assume to viewer lived most of their life on a planet. And most of the you talk to are from planets too, even those that have made their home on the station still grew up on planets, or have family they visit on planets. But you don't really have any personal frame of reference for what a planet is even like. Once or twice you've been on a ship or visited a nearby station, but you've never actually been too a planet.
You don't think of things the way terrestrial people do. You don't think of things as being inside or outside, just in diffrent rooms. You don't think of places as being flat, but as having layers of floors. You don't even have a full idea of what being "outside" would be like.
And one day, long after you've become an adult, you actually visit a planet. Everyone you know kind of expects you to be in awe of the beauty of an open sky, to finally enjoy the feeling of fresh air. But to you, you feel nothing. It's chaotic and confusing, you don't know how to get anywhere, you can't navigate places this open. When you see an open field it scares you, like open space brought into a station's walls. Everything feels so big and crowded and so small and empty at the same time. You barely leave your hotel room the entire trip.
People are supposed to exist on the ground. But you adapted to something else. That's what humans do after all, adapt to things.
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