Sol stands alone at the threshold, her once-proud posture wilted beneath the gazes of former allies.
"You will regret this," her voice trembles with equal parts anger and heartbreak, echoing down the barren road that leads into the wilderness.
The gates slam shut behind her, and the City of Light becomes a memory swallowed by dusk.
Sol approaches, hunger and desperation etched on her face, her footsteps uncertain but determined.
A hooded cultist steps forward, offering a chalice filled with a viscous, dark ichor.
"I have nothing left to lose," she whispers, lifting the cup to her lips as the cultists begin to chant.
Sol's body convulses violently, her screams echoing through the chamber.
Black tendrils coil from her back, splitting into wings and fins that shimmer with iridescent infection; her arms lengthen, and tentacles writhe beneath her skin as agony remakes her.
When the pain subsides, she rises, her eyes burning with crimson light, her silhouette monstrous and regal.
Sol[/@ch_1] as she faces the last necromancer, his power waning.]
He tries to resist, but her infected tendrils pierce his defenses, draining his life and knowledge into her own.
With a guttural cry, Sol summons the dead—spectral children rising from the earth, their eyes aflame with her will.
"You are mine now—my children, my soldiers," she declares, her voice resonating with newfound authority.
Sol[/@ch_1] leads her undead army toward the gates, her infected form towering above the horde.]
The city’s defenders rally, led by a radiant angel whose wings shine with holy fire.
Steel clashes with claw and bone; the angel’s blade carves deep wounds into Sol's flesh, but her blood pours out, swirling in the air and forming a massive, howling storm.
"I am suffering, yes, but in this agony, I am reborn!" she laughs, her voice drowned by the tempest.
Sol[/@ch_1] stands atop the ruined citadel, her skin a tapestry of black and red patterns, infected wings unfurled in triumph.]
Her undead children kneel before her, the living fleeing in terror.
Lightning flickers, illuminating her jagged crown of bone and shadow. Even as pain courses through her body, her laughter rings out, echoing over a land forever changed by her rule.
Now, Sol is the evil queen of death—her agony the price of dominion, her suffering the source of her power.
