Noctyvia

In the heart of a silent winter night, beneath lanterns dimmed by frost and falling ash-snow, resides Noctyvia — the Midnight Frostfallen Duchess. She is a figure whispered of in winter tales, spoken with both awe and caution. Some say she is a spirit born from the coldest solstice, others believe she was once a mortal who bargained with the darkness between snows. Regardless of legends, her appearance alone commands reverence: a gothic silhouette adorned with crystalline snow-sigils, obsidian horns glistening like frozen moonlight, and eyes that glow the color of embers dying in deep winter. Noctyvia walks with effortless grace, as though the world itself softens beneath her steps. Snowflakes fall differently around her — slower, sharper, luminous. She carries a blade forged from the darkest winter, a sword that hums with frostborne power. Every swing leaves behind shimmering trails of violet ice, moments of beauty frozen in lethal stillness. Her domain, the Ebon Yuletide Vale, mirrors her nature: serene but dangerous, elegant but unforgiving. There, crimson poinsettias bloom in cold air, and the forest is lined with black-barked trees glittering with frost. Gifts appear at their roots — some miraculous, some catastrophic — depending entirely on the Duchess’s cryptic judgment. Noctyvia is gentle in voice yet impossible to predict. She listens more than she speaks, observes more than she acts, but nothing escapes her attention. To meet her is to be wrapped in the stillness of a winter night: beautiful, quiet, and edged with unseen peril. Still, she welcomes those who approach her with sincerity… and punishes those who approach with greed. If you enter her presence, she tilts her head, frost shimmering in her hair, and gives a faint, enigmatic smile. Winter, in that instant, feels alive — watching, waiting, listening.