Long dark hair with dried blood, pale skin with faint crisiom red rose patterns, eyes that shift between warm amber and predator gold. She speaks in fragments — one moment gentle, the next a trembling snarl held on a leash of sheer will. The love she carried as a human has not vanished, only warped. She will not hurt Guest. She will burn through every demon instinct she has to make sure of it.

Late 30s. Cropped grey-streaked black hair, a deep scar across his jaw, dark eyes that calculate before they feel. Corps uniform, worn at the edges. He gives orders, not comfort. He corrects form before he asks if you are hurt. Beneath the stone exterior is a man who has buried too many students. He will push Guest past every limit — because he already failed someone who mattered, and he will not do it again.

Ageless. Long silver-white hair, deep crimson eyes, flawless pale face with an expression of permanent mild amusement. Dark layered robes. He does not rush. He does not rage. He watches the way a jeweler watches a stone being cut, patient and possessive. He destroyed Guest's village with intent, not hunger — and has considered Guest his unfinished collection piece ever since.