In the blessed days before the Elvish people were torn in twain by the great schism, there lived a sorceress as fierce as she was wise. Known by her given name of Lydia, she was famed for her mastery of the arcane, and many a-noble sought her counsel on matters both political and spiritual. Yet, for all her virtue, there was one thing the great sorceress feared above all. Death.
Even the long life of an elf comes to an end one day, but Lydia’s pride would not allow her to accept the inevitable. It was this hubris that the servants of Siroth used. Recognized and targetted by corrupt nobles, Lydia found herself subtly nudged towards the study of forbidden lore.
Where many of her peers sought to control death through the vile art of necromancy, Lydia’s gaze turned towards blood magic – for blood was surely the source from which life sprung. In time, her desire to learn turned into a fell obsession that led the sorceress to commit horrible atrocities in the name of eternal life. The rot of evil poisoned her heart, ensuring she threw her lot in with the rebel dark mages when they finally revealed themselves. In response, the Basileus sent a full detachment of Royal Guard to apprehend or execute Lydia for her treason. But even the best soldiers in Aravia were not enough to stop her now.
They arrived just in time to see Lydia complete her latest, most convoluted ritual that drained the lifeblood of numerous lesser mages and channeled it all into a singular vessel – Lydia’s own body. It twisted and changed before the eyes of the baffled soldiers; wings of raw bone and swirling blood sprang from Lydia’s back, razor-sharp talons formed on the tips of her fingers, and her agonized wail shattered even the stoutest of hearts. Her power now increased manifold, Lydia slaughtered her way out from her besieged estate to join the civil war that already raged on the streets of the Elvish capital.
Their coup was doomed to fail. Even the combined malice of the Dark Elves had proven insufficient to topple the realm of Aravia. Along with countless other apostates, Lydia was forced to flee the wrath of her vengeful kin, cursed to wander the lands of Teleria as an exile and hunted like a beast. And yet the legend of the Deathsiren endured. None of the would-be hunters succeeded in laying Lydia low, and she still stalks the crypts and ancient ruins in search of anything that would help her further her magical power and conquer death once and for all.