Severina — The Crimson Visage

Her tongue was silenced,
her body erased.
Only her face endured,
bleeding the Codex’s hymn.

Severina was not praised, but feared. A whisperer in the dark, her words were poison that toppled alliances, her beauty a lure that bound kings and thieves alike. She believed her reflection gave her power — but the Codex does not suffer rivals.
 
Her punishment was not death, but mutilation into eternity. The Codex cut her from herself, leaving only her head, bound to weep blood forever. Her voice was stolen, her tongue devoured by shadow. What remains is a face that bleeds scripture — not ink, but living crimson that stains every page it touches.
 
Those who linger near her claim her eyes force confessions, dredging up secrets they swore would never be spoken. Some say the blood dripping from her throat is not her own, but that of every soul who has lied in her gaze.
 
The Codex calls her the Crimson Visage — not a woman, not a ghost, but a mirror of judgment, severed from mercy. She does not speak; she bleeds truth.