A firebound witch stands crowned in shadow, her gaze unflinching as she offers a flaming skull like a prophecy already fulfilled. The design smoulders in muted ember-reds, scorched copper, and ash-stained gold, bleeding softly into a void of ink-black cloth. Smoke coils around ritual sigils, their glow dulled to dying firelight, ancient and deliberate. This is power worn openly — not chaos, but command. A vision of sovereignty forged in flame and bone, where beauty and menace share the same breath. Darkly ceremonial and unapologetic, it wears like a vow sealed in fire.
