What Dominion blood seals, no House, no time, and no regret can undo. They don't sit above the Order's table, they're the reason nothing sworn at it can ever quietly stop being true.

Their ancestor let go completely and never came back from it. What's left is an awareness that's never once switched off, and never will.

Beauty is their currency and their weapon. They command art, high society, and the desires of anyone foolish enough to look too long.

Psychic. Prophetic. Unmoored. Their visions shape what's coming, and pull them loose from their own place in time. Every gift has its price.

Masters of the old rites and forbidden histories, older than the city itself. They remember what everyone else has been made to forget.

Anarchic and impatient, they have no use for the old order, and even less for anyone still defending it.

Contracted killers, led by tradition by an outsider to their own ranks. They serve no House, only the contract, and the contract is always fulfilled.