Where roses bloom in blood and silence reigns, we rise. They called it peace. We call it prelude.
“They promised peace among the stars. We brought the silence that followed.”
Born from the ashes of broken treaties and gilded lies, Sins of Serenity is a shadow-born syndicate, equal parts siren song and storm-front. Draped in elegance and driven by precision, they move like whispers through the void, reclaiming what was stolen, and punishing those who mistake softness for surrender.
Some say they’re descendants of ancient faiths, fragments of Fayth, bound by blood oaths and bitter memory. Others claim they’re just ghosts in velvet, drifting between systems with smiles sharp as starlight.
They don’t ask for mercy.
They grant it, rarely.
In the galaxy’s quiet corners, where light falters and empires rot, the name still lingers:
Sins of Serenity.
Sin is not our burden. It’s our banner.
Who’s asking?
Who’s asking?