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It doesn’t make any sense.
It was found in the deepest part of this old Chasm, in a place so dark, the Abyss scratched at the skin and soul. It’s magic was darker than any hex a human could have made. It belonged in a place so old, the name of it is lost.
It didn’t make any sense.
It was graceful, breathtaking even; it’s Vereian blue wings didn’t move as it glided across the pit it seemed to guard. A simple snap of it’s fingers, fiery rings would appear and great fires would blast at them; a flick of the wrist, a javelin of magic would shoot to them; a pointed pose, a orb of pure dark would seek them out.
It didn’t make any sense.
Yet, despite everything, sitting on the ground where it once fluttered above, was an aurora. Brighter than any other soul, even more than a Great Soul, it’s soul lit up the room, a beacon in the Darkness. And nothing of it made sense.
A creature that lurked in the dark, weaved in sunless sorceries, blackened pyromancies, and sinister hexes, had a soul of a star.