The Hanged Bride — Veil of the Noose
 
Her vow was broken,
her breath stolen.
The rope sang,
and the Codex answered.
 
She was once promised to a lord, her lips bound in vows of devotion. But on the night of her wedding, the Codex claimed its price. Betrayed, accused of consorting with shadows, she was dragged to the gallows in her gown, her veil replaced with a noose.
 
Her scream did not die with her breath — it inked itself into the Codex, coiling in the rope fibers that still bite her throat. Now she sways in silence between worlds, neither bride nor widow, but a corpse in crimson. Her eyes bleed judgment, her mouth gapes with the words she never spoke, and every creak of the rope is a verse of accusation.
 
The Codex binds her as a warning: vows are snares, and love is only another rope around the neck. They say to see her shadow is to feel a phantom cord around your throat — and to hear her gasp is to know your oath is already broken.