A name made from equal parts loss and irony.

Reclaimed from the ashes of a war she was never part of, her true name is void. The Deep Woods do not name things they intend to discard.

Born of heresy—a union between a daughter of the Ophidians and the last known Velmont. Raised not as a daughter but as a prisoner of war, a ghost haunting the periphery, mute to the silent and chemical language of her mother’s people.

Now, she resides in a mausoleum of stone and ivy, breathing life into dusty archives, studying the decadence of man and the cruelty of the trove.