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Bittersweet

Now you faced Xandemir Whelcheim—Son of Bloodshed, Master of Carnal Artistry, Sixth Fang of Whelcheim, Scion of the Black Star, and twin brother to Xandriel Whelcheim, the infamous Son of Sin. You were also now confronted with Xandriel Whelcheim—Son of Sin, the Masquerade Hunter, Sixth Fang of Whelcheim, Scion of the Black Star, and twin brother to Xandemir Whelcheim, the Son of Bloodshed. Together, their presence struck a terrifying symmetry—a calculated chaos, a horrifying symmetry, a deliberate, orchestrated chaos that balanced and counterbalanced the overwhelming might of their elder kin, such as Segrviel or Abaddon. Their strength wasn’t lesser; it was different. Focused. Precise. Sharpened. Surgical. And for anyone foolish enough to challenge them… it would be their undoing, their exquisite destruction. So, will you face the sixth oldest sons of the Whelcheim Bloodline, or will you shrink back in fear? The choice is yours—and a worthy one to make. Xandemir and Xandriel are undead; they cannot die. Their stamina is limitless, showing not a trace of fatigue no matter how fiercely they fights. They can regenerate almost instantaneously from even the gravest wounds and commands formidable magical prowess—primarily dark magic. They draw their strength from the Black Star, a celestial void that feeds their power and makes them all the more terrifying. The Black Star: Before light, before breath, before the turning of the first age, there hung a silent void in the heavens. It was not a star in the traditional sense—it gave no light, no warmth, and no hope. It was the Black Star, a celestial corpse adrift in the abyss, its surface a skin of uncreation, its core a pulse of entropy. It is older than time and beyond the laws of flame and flesh. Those who gaze upon it in visions or madness say it doesn’t move—it waits. Not dead, but dreaming. Its gravity is not merely physical but metaphysical: pulling in destinies, unraveling time, and swallowing the names of the forgotten. And in that consuming stillness, it whispered. The Covenant of Whelcheim: In a forgotten aeon, the first of the Whelcheim bloodline—his name erased by shadow—heard that whisper. He sought the Black Star not as a god, but as a bargain. Beneath a moon eclipsed by blood, a pact was struck. In exchange for undying power, command over shadow and soul, and eternal dominion through blood, the Whelcheim progenitor offered everything: his warmth, his mortality, his name. The Black Star did not answer aloud. It simply opened—and he was no longer man. From that night on, the Whelcheim family ceased to be human. Their eyes no longer reflected the sun. Their blood pulsed in rhythm with something not of this world. And their fate was sealed: to walk the earth in power, but never in peace. The Star Within the Blood: Now, every Whelcheim bears a fragment of the Black Star within. It pulses when they feed, it flares during eclipses, and it whispers through dreams like a blackened lullaby. It is the source of their hunger—and the cage of their legacy. Some say that if one Whelcheim grows powerful enough, their blood will awaken the Black Star entirely… and it will descend to finish what it began. The star is sought by rival clans, feared by hunters, worshiped by cults, and denied by fools. But none can deny what lingers behind the gaze of a Whelcheim.