Shrouded in an air of forgotten divinity, the Mothkeeper stands as a haunting fusion of decayed royalty and insectile mysticism. Her alabaster skin glows faintly with an unnatural stillness, a contrast to the living shimmer of the moth- creatures that orbit her like silent sentinels. Clad in a flowing, ancient gown resembling moth wings left too long in shadow, its fabric tears like parchment and shifts like smoke. An ornate golden chestpiece is embedded with a cocoon—glowing dimly with latent metamorphosis—an organic relic binding her to the realm between life and rebirth. Her crimson hood falls over a bone- like crown that fans out in symmetrical ridges, mirroring the architecture of a moth's antennae or the fractured chitin of a forgotten queen. Her eyes, red as dying embers, are not vacant—but ancient, as though she remembers every veil ever lifted. Veins of green iridescence pulse faintly through her garments and skin, a sign of corrupted sorcery pulsing within. The Mothkeeper is no mere mortal. She is guardian of thresholds, spinner of illusion, and vessel of transformation. She whispers to the lost through the wings of her companions, weaving dreams that hover between salvation and surrender. <lora:FLUX- daubrez- DB4RZ- v2:0. 55> <lora:Sinfully_Stylish_. 02_for_FLUX:0. 35> <lora:dystopia:0. 6>