The "Seraphims" set (32mm)
Once radiant angels of the celestial choir, they now stood as fallen warriors, their severed wings reforged into deadly weapons. The First Seraph gripped her wing-blade with both hands, its feathers still shimmering with traces of divine light, now bent into cruel, jagged edges. The Second spun hers like a whirlwind, the razor-sharp pinions whistling through the air, while the Third held hers low and ready—a silent executioner’s tool. Their halos had shattered long ago, but the fire in their eyes burned fiercer than ever. They had no names, only purpose: to carve vengeance into the flesh of those who had torn them from grace.
Beneath the bleeding sky, they moved as one—three figures clad in tattered remnants of holy vestments, their once-white robes now stained with ash and ichor. The wings in their hands were no longer instruments of flight, but of slaughter; each strike carried the weight of their fall, each parry a defiance of their fate. They spoke not in words, but in the language of steel and feather, their battle cries the sound of tearing wind. Heaven had cast them out, but they would not fade. They would fight until either the world remembered their glory—or until nothing remained of them but the echo of wingbeats in the void.
