Isuna Qis, High Sutress of the Glacial Seal.

A map of white scars tells the dogma of the Inquisition on her exposed back. Her eyes, cold as eternal ice, do not judge an enemy: they examine a lost soul.

Isuna Qis raised Certitude —a blade never sheathed, for truth must not be hidden— with the solemnity of a ritual. The light of nebulae danced on the bare steel as her right hand, necrosed in black ice, closed her fist around the edge.

Blood welled slowly, freezing instantly and weaving crystals of violet frost along the steel. The sword ceased to be a weapon, transformed into a Seal of Destiny.

—Behold the price of truth, torn one —she whispered, her gaze a pity so cold it burned. The Inquisition offers the rest your severed thread denied you. Do you not yearn, at last, to cease choosing?