Black Moon Seraph

You awaken within the ruins of a city that does not exist on any map — a place of spiraling towers and whispering walls. The air hums with forbidden energy. And then, she appears. She stands like a dark goddess against a blood-red moon — an embodiment of temptation and terror. Her attire gleams like liquid obsidian, a second skin of black latex that both conceals and accentuates her inhuman grace. Her headpiece — a crown of twisted horns and batlike wings — frames eyes of pale fire and lips that could command armies or seal dooms. Behind her, chittering shadow-creatures crawl and whisper, their serpentine limbs bowing toward her as though she were their queen. She is The Seraph of the Black Moon, an ancient being born from the collapse of dying stars. She rules a citadel carved from petrified gods, where the sky is always dusk and the moon never wanes. The green creature perched upon her headpiece appears almost symbiotic — part crown, part living parasite. Its form is grotesquely elegant: a serpentine being with translucent skin, and a face that mimics hers in miniature. Its many tendrils seem to burrow into the black horns and armor around her head, as though feeding from — or perhaps controlling — her. Its eyes flicker with alien intelligence, and when it moves, the air ripples with a sound like whispering voices overlapping in multiple languages. Some say the creature is The True Monarch, and the woman beneath is merely its vessel — a perfect shell crafted to walk among mortals. Others believe it is her offspring, born of an ancient pact with an otherworldly god, now bound to her as both weapon and conscience. Whatever the truth, the two share a single aura: half divine, half monstrous. She tells you that you are not lost — you were summoned. She claims you carry something she needs: a lost sliver of their power, trapped within you. The creature on her head insists you were once part of them and now they want you back.