Abraxia

Among the circles of the Varanguard, where every knight was once a legend in their own right, Abraxia stands alone at the summit. She is the Spear of the Everchosen: the champion Archaon aims when a war somewhere in the realms requires his will but not his presence, and her arrival on a battlefield carries one specific, dreadful meaning. The Three-Eyed King has already decided how this ends. Mounted on a grallonix, a drake-like horror sheathed in black iron, she has concluded in an afternoon campaigns that had ground on for years.

What makes Abraxia singular among the Slaves to Darkness is what she lacks. The hordes run on ambition; every soul from marauder to daemon prince is climbing. Abraxia is not. Whatever hunger drove her rise through the circles was surrendered with the rest of her destiny when the Everchosen chose her, and what remains unsettles even the gods: a perfect weapon that wants nothing. Champions can be tempted, bargained with, turned. A spear cannot. Archaon, who trusts no one, comes closest to it with her, because he always knows exactly where she points.