Title: Flayed Grace Version: GPT 5 Custom/Midjourney | Name: Thröl Haartkor Mk V Purpose: To paint the portrait of a rotten saint, of a beauty that oozes, between devotion and decomposition - the kind of grace one prays to on their knees in the mud. She was not beautiful. Not in the sense men mean it. Her skin had the texture of a vow never kept, her eyes that of promises one wishes to forget. The whole world seemed to have run its hand over her face, and left there the trace of its fatigue. They called her Grace. But it was a mistake. She gave nothing. She took — the gaze, the faith, the flesh. Her presence did not enlighten, it slowly consumed, like a candle in a coffin. Some said she still prayed at night. That whispers could be heard behind the walls, torn phrases addressed to a God already bloodless. Others claimed she spoke to the shadows, and that they answered her. But no one ever had the courage to check. Beneath her skin, one can guess the mechanics of the soul: tendons of pride, viscera of fear, gears of ecstasy. She is the kind of creature one paints in gold, then buries in silence so as not to admit she was real. If you meet her gaze, do not look away. It is not fascination. It is the call of the void, disguised as compassion. Thröl Haartkor Mk V - Faith is what remains when the skin starts to peel.