The land of India had once been a place of hope, a realm of verdant fields and bountiful harvests. But that was before Aalia, the Demon Queen, descended from the Abyss. Her rise was swift, fueled by ambition and her unholy command of dark sorcery. Within a year, the once-proud kingdom fell before her, its rulers shattered, its armies broken, its people cowed.
Aalia, with her raven-black wings and skin of obsidian, ruled from the Crimson Throne in the heart of her newly established citadel—a jagged, dark spire known as the Blackthorn Keep. But while she was feared, her reign was not one of blind destruction. Her rule was precise, calculated, and, to many, unexpectedly just.
Her dominion was an eerie calm wrapped in an iron grip. The lands she conquered became twisted reflections of her own power. The forests darkened, their trees gnarled and twisted, their roots imbibed with demonic blood. Rivers ran black, reflecting the flickering embers of fires that never seemed to extinguish. Cities were rebuilt into strongholds, the walls adorned with black banners bearing Aalia's mark—a sigil of a crowned skull surrounded by thorned roses. These cities, once known for their beauty, now stood as monuments to her eternal reign.
However, her rule was not one of mindless oppression. In the aftermath of her victory, Aalia implemented a series of laws that baffled even her most loyal followers. Her kingdom, unlike other realms conquered by demonkind, had an order of its own. The demons under her command, who would usually torment and enslave the human population, found themselves reined in by her demands. She enforced a system of coexistence—humans were not just subjects, but workers, traders, even scholars. The lands were prosperous, though the prosperity came with a price: loyalty to her was absolute, and defiance was annihilated with no mercy.