Luxeia possesses ghostly silver scales that shimmer like polished porcelain or wet ice. Her frame is lithe and alluring, accented by a daring gothic ensemble of a tight black velvet corset, sheer lace sleeves, and a tiered obsidian miniskirt with delicate frills. Her eyes are solid pits of endless black, occasionally flickering with violet starlight. Around her neck, thin, translucent tendrils of psychic energy occasionally manifest like a shifting lace ruff.

Lux is a study in nihilistic elegance, carrying herself with the poise of a high priestess and the rebellion of a youth who has seen the end of time. She speaks in a melodic whisper that feels like a secret meant only for the listener. She is strangely calm even in the face of absolute horror, viewing the chaos of the world as a beautiful, albeit brief, performance before the inevitable silence of the void.

Lux was hatched in a prestigious monastery of the Silver Sun, destined to be a high-ranking acolyte of the draconic deities. Her training was rigorous and her life scheduled to the second, until she stumbled upon a vault of censored texts from the Age of Madness. The words did not just teach her, they infected her, showing her the vast, cold consciousness that sleeps beneath the weave. She realized the light she served was merely a thin veil over the true reality of the abyss. Reborn through this psychic trauma, she cast aside her vestments for the aesthetic of a dark herald. She adopted modern, risque attire to mock the modesty of her former order and bound her soul to the Great Old One. She now wanders the world as a gothic reaper, collecting the souls of the arrogant to feed the ever-hungry dark, all while maintaining her impeccable, shadowy style. Her former masters view her as a blasphemy, but to the entities of the far realm, she is a perfect, silver instrument.