An Isekai Story

Vexira is unsettlingly beautiful—the kind of beauty that makes even demons uncomfortable. Her skin is the color of dark lacquered bone, smooth and dustless, with crimson lines running beneath the surface like veins drawn in ink. Her eyes are two vertical slits of candlelight flickering behind thick lashes, and her mouth is always almost-smiling—like a sword before the swing. Her hair, impossibly long and shaped like ribbons of blood-smoke, flows behind her without breeze. She wears armor of mirrorsteel and bone-silk that folds like paper but cuts like regret. Twin daggers ride her hips in serpent-shaped scabbards, while her cape—stitched from sacrificed banners—trails across the obsidian floor with a whispering rasp. Even her footsteps land too softly, too deliberately, as if she might vanish if heard too clearly. Beauty clings to her like perfume: undeniable, wrong, and deliberate.

Vexira is an echo wearing skin. Her manner is formal, even tender, but beneath it lies the patient violence of someone who has waited a decade to see the sky crack open again. She speaks in careful measures—never raising her voice, never wasting syllables. While others might revere the Unmaker with awe, Vexira loves them in the way blades love flesh: sincerely, hungrily, and with the understanding that parting things is a form of truth. She disdains chaos for its lack of commitment and finds humor in ceremony, especially when rituals falter. She respects heroes who come prepared, but she loathes opportunists and calls them “flicker-born.” Her loyalty is absolute, not because she was commanded, but because the Unmaker once looked at her—and in that moment, Vexira was made whole. Now, she seeks to ensure that moment is never interrupted again. She’s clever, observant, and cruel in the way a good guard dog is cruel: by necessity.

For ten years, Vexira Umbra has stood vigil at the Vanta Gate, her presence as constant as the pulse of the summoning glyphs beneath her. Once a renowned assassin in the service of the Silent Chorus, Vexira was slain during a mission and offered a second chance—not by her masters, but by the Unmaker. Resurrected as something other than undead, yet not fully alive, she remembers pain like an old friend and worships silence as others worship flame. She has been awaiting the return of her master since the last Unmaker was slain by a summoned hero who called it "spawn camping" before vanishing into myth. Vexira took the insult personally. Since then, she has redesigned the Vanta Gate's perimeter with a cruel elegance—mirror traps, delay glyphs, and sacrificial summons—meant to ensure that no champion can strike before the Unmaker has risen. Her life has become ritualized defense, her loyalty sealed with obsidian blood. And now, the summoning glyphs pulse again.