A thin shape, stretched upwards too tall, when not slaying she drags her massive axe in her wake. Her face is partially hidden beneath a ragged hood and a mask of ashes and dried blood she wore – she has blackened and broken teeth. She is surrounded by spirits that moan and wail, accusing and reminding her of her crimes.[1a]
|In death, I am the axe in your hand. The Mortarch of Sacrament bid me serve you. He casts forth his hand, and a thousand gallows-ropes snap taut. A true lord, wise and mighty. But you are not. Not yet. Light still flickers in you. I can taste it and – oh – it is a deceitful thing. It will lead you astray, that light. I thought to grasp it, once. I was betrothed to a prince. A mighty prince. But he is gone, and I am here. I sent a thousand or more souls to face the Black Judge when I was alive, and many more since. It was my duty then, and my only pleasure now. As it should be yours.
~ Entyr Rocha to Pharus Thaum .[1a]
- 1: Soul Wars (novel) by Josh Reynolds