Nyxaria Virethorn

Once a moonlit muse of the Seelie Court, Nyxaria danced through twilight gardens spinning silver dew into song. She was revered for her voice—a siren lullaby that lulled forests to stillness—and for the beauty of her kiss, which could heal the fading spirit of even the oldest oak. But envy took root. A rival fey, threatened by her grace, cursed her kiss with a venom so potent it reversed life itself. Cast out and defiled, Nyxaria's exile twisted her soul. The golden tones of her wings blackened like scorched parchment. Her voice became velvet and viperous. She forged a throne of vines strangled in thorns and made her kingdom in forgotten mausoleums and root-choked crypts beneath withered groves. Nyxaria now lures mortals and fey alike with promises whispered on rose-sweet breath. One kiss is all it takes—for her poison is not always fatal. Sometimes, it binds. A soul ensnared in love with her cannot escape, decaying slowly into shadow as it feeds the roots of her dominion.