Credited By: rxstr

Semi Lore

Far below the living world, beyond even the tide of memory, a trial unfolded in the black halls of the Dark Council.
The accused: Slannath, a demoness of soul-forging, born in fire and oath.
Her crime: Mercy. She had spared mortal souls that should have been judged.
She had studied forbidden rites, not to ascend, but to descend. She longed not for power, but for the touch of a fleeting mortal life. To feel pain and joy and hunger and love. To die, and in dying, live.
The Council made of shadowy feminine silhouettes called her twisted. She called it the truth.
Presiding over the sentence was not a councilor, but a sentinel.
Sarnyx, the Scion of the Underworld, stood at the end of the chamber, veiled in stillness, masked in law. His crimson cords burned with the names of condemned souls. His right eye shimmered with ember-light, ready to brand her.
He did not speak. He did not flinch. He simply stood, the weight of judgment coiled in every motionless breath.
When the verdict was cast her demonic features: horns, wings, and tail, were torn from her soul. Her name was struck from the underworld’s records. She was cast into the Celestial Vein, sentenced to drift into the wild beyond, a realm where no demon nor deity should tread.
Before she was banished, she turned toward the silent warden. Sarnyx did not meet her eyes, but something passed between them in the quiet.
Not hatred. Not pity. A single moment of stillness.
Then she was gone, pulled into the tides between worlds.