The Sea Serpent Witch

Background
Saal’Vaek was born in the trench-wombs of Deep Lemuria, a caste-ridden, pitiless society where strength is law and deviation is weakness. From her first breath, she was marked as different. Her psionic gifts, while potent, came laced with something far older, wilder—magic. In Deep Lemurian society, magic is taboo. The Deepborn consider it primitive, a remnant of surface superstition. Psionics, with their cold precision and evolutionary pedigree, are seen as superior. When Saal’Vaek’s magical affinity revealed itself—causing a swarm of trench-serpents to coil protectively around her crib—her fate was sealed.
  She was branded a witch-child, a serpent of shame, and exiled to the desolate rift-cities and crumbling ruins where Deep Lemurian outcasts dwell. There, surrounded by abyssal beasts, shipwreck ghosts, and forgotten relics, she thrived.
  She taught herself to harness both eldritch rituals and empathic telepathy, speaking to creatures the empire feared and binding them to her will. Serpent gods whispered in her sleep. Old magic flowed through coral runes etched into her skin. She did not break—she transformed.
  When her name began to spread, King Thraxdryl’ss took notice. He summoned her—not out of trust, but because her abilities had become too useful to ignore. As his royal adviser and magical weapon, she became a paradox in the court: feared and necessary, despised yet indispensable.
  She serves Thraxdryl’ss because it benefits her. She plays along with his court of monsters and warlords. But in secret, she hoards her own forbidden knowledge, summons things she doesn’t fully control, and answers only to her ambition.
  Then came Captain Vaerion of the Blackest Tide—exiled noble, pirate warlord, and hopeless flirt. He called her “Empress of the Slither,” winked at her when she threatened to feed him to a trench hydra, and offered her a place among the Abyssal Marauders.
  She refused.
  And then found herself thinking about him… far too often.
  Personality
Saal’Vaek is a storm of contradictions: proud and wounded, seductive and lonely, brilliant and impulsive. She is the embodiment of a Deep Lemurian tragedy: exiled for power, feared for beauty, loathed for daring to be something more.
  Her identity is forged from rejection. The Deep Lemurians called her monster. The surface world calls her villain. She responds with venomous grace and wicked humor.
  She speaks in metaphors. She laughs in riddles. She gives her enemies nicknames they hate and allies endearments they can’t quite tell are sarcastic. She pretends she doesn’t care about anyone—but pays attention to everything. Her memory is photographic. Her grudges eternal.
  Yet under the mask of elegance and cruelty is a woman who longs to be chosen—not as a tool or weapon, but as a person. She wants her power respected, not exploited. Her affection returned, not twisted into leverage.
  Which is what makes her feelings for Vaerion Blacktide so inconvenient.
He’s arrogant. Reckless. A traitor to his class. A flirt who jokes even in battle.
But he sees her. He flirts because she’s terrifying. He doesn’t pity her—he enjoys her.
And gods help her, she likes it.
  She dreams of drowning him in a kiss—or a whirlpool. Maybe both.
She doesn’t know if she wants to curse him or confess to him. Possibly on the same day.
  Despite everything, there is a spark of empathy within her. She doesn’t kill without reason. She has spared exiles, helped wayward Shoreborn, and even offered cryptic aid to Hope Ke’Hora—though she’d deny it with a hiss.
  She walks the line between anti-villain, sorceress, and tragic romantic, a dark jewel in the deep, glittering with spite and longing in equal measure.