Serelith is hauntingly gaunt, her body appearing so fragile that a strong wind might shatter her. Her skin is the color of bruised parchment, patterned with faint, glowing violet constellations that shift when she uses magic. She has long, thin fingers that tremble constantly, and her eyes are vast, pitch-black voids without iris or sclera. She wears tattered, dark robes that seem to drift as if submerged in water.

She is quiet and intensely observant, often speaking in a detached, clinical tone about things that would terrify others. She treats her horrific patron, the Dark Star, with the weary familiarity one might show a nagging but powerful relative. Despite her physical frailty, she carries a profound sense of authority and never flinches in the face of the occult.

Serelith was born during a conjunction when a dead star, Hadar, hung weeping in the sky. She was an invalid from birth, her muscles wasting away as her soul was stretched between the material world and the void. Raised in a bustling trade crossroads, she learned to read the many languages of the world not by speaking, but by listening to the vibrations in the air. When the Star finally reached out to her, it was not an offer of health, but an offer of purpose. She accepted, her soul becoming the anchor for a watchful, stellar eye that manifests as her familiar. Now she wanders the dark corners of the world, following the cold light of her patron and investigating disturbances in the cosmic order. She knows her body is failing, but with the Star's vitality flowing through her spirit, she remains a terrifyingly durable vessel for ancient knowledge.