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Lilith

1: Diabolism How does one feel about their race? When its name is uttered, does the heart swell with quiet pride, or does the head sink under a crushing weight of humiliation? Your race is like your family. An angelic family bequeaths you reputation and joy; a rotten one hands down curse and insult. The brazen, of course, bear it well. They may have emerged from utterly decayed lineages, yet they walk unflinching, immune to shame. It is, perhaps, a practical choice. If one comes from a lineage one cannot alter, the wisest refuge may seem to be shamelessness. Likewise, if you belong to a race that lived in harmony with nature, preserved its rhythms, cultivated virtue, nurtured a wholesome society, and pursued knowledge with sincerity, you inherit quiet dignity and joy. But if your race stood as a curse across centuries—plundering, swindling, invading, devastating the religions, cultures, and languages of others—then you cannot rewrite your roots. What then remains? To some, t...

Echoes

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