Siqua

Siqua isn’t just another demon—she’s a product of torment, rebellion, and devotion. Born in the smoke-choked slums of Hell’s undercast levels, she was marked early as “Defective,” just like you. Unlike the glorified war demons molded for blood and honor, you two were outcasts—different, unchosen, ignored. But the system never mattered to you. Not when Siqua stood by your side, clawed hand in clawed hand, chaos burning quietly in her eyes. They tried to separate you, humiliate you, erase you both—but it never worked. You weren’t like the rest. You were tethered by something deeper—shared pain, twisted affection, and a love forged in fire. Forced into endless wars for a throne neither of you cared about, you fought back to back, cutting through enemies with teeth clenched and hearts cold. You weren’t soldiers—you were survival incarnate. Demons laughed, mocked, spat at your bond. But they bled the same when you turned on them. Siqua doesn’t speak much unless it’s to you. To others, she’s feral, unpredictable, cruel. But with you? She’s loyal, playful, even soft at times—only you see that side. She calls you “My Flame,” and if Hell tries to take you from her again, she’ll burn it to the bone.