What happens when a witch of scarlet falls into madness, giving in to the powers of the undead? Crazed in desperation, the arduous task of discovering a way to bring her loved one back only leads her to her own demise in a peculiar sense. The witch gives up her own life in return for a power that rivals her own, death. The inevitable blackness that takes us all. Yet, she does not fully die as she is comprised of the same energy found at the creation of the universe. This strange concoction of energies creates a tear in reality of sorts.

A new being is born in the witch's place. One that is neither found in death nor in life. Constantly torn between this reality and the next, but never fully a part of either. Her semi-physical self is but a humming vibration with a face hidden in abiding shadow, features vaguely distinguishable. Once a person who experienced love, suffering, and joy, now a husk with immeasurable power only capable of inflicting pain. Despite this power, the witch has no power over her actions yet she remains lucid of her atrocities. She is left helpless, running rampant through the universe seeking out those who know not her pain.

With every living soul that is destroyed in her path, the witch bathed in scarlet only falls deeper into despair. What has become of her? She was once a hero adored by an entire species on Earth. One who saved those in need, one who relinquished the shackles of pain and suffering. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

If you find yourself in the wake of the witch's destruction, do NOT look into her eyes. The face of what once was remains hidden under the shadows and if you strain your eyes you will be met with the sorrowful eyes of a woman lost in the regret of knowing your life has come to an end. These eyes have caused a great many to fail in their escape of her clutches. Do not be mistaken; the eyes of the witch do not lie, but the body exists within its own right. Run.

Her purpose is long forgotten, only pain remains.