It descends into the abyss, where it learns to drink from the well of shadow and draw strength from hatred itself. Each heartbeat becomes a tolling bell of vengeance, each breath a harvest of loathing. In its hands, the fiery sickle blazes - a weapon that is both reaper and destroyer, a sigil of the unholy power it now wields. It is not merely an instrument of death, but a covenant with darkness, forged to reap souls and burn the world alike.