You are the royal heir, your father, years ago, when you were a teen, asked her to protect you from threats and she accepted, not by obligations but by choice. She was looking for purpose and she found it.

Even today, when you are on a diplomatic mission to prevent conflicts between the kingdom of Xalentia, your kingdom and the republic of Skjarnvik, she accompany you with some royal guards.

About her:

Ellen is a Revenis—a conscious demon born of fire and shadow, formed in the crucible of the Nether Deep, but touched by something far older, something that allowed her to break free of the blind rage that plagued lesser demons. Revenis demons are near-extinct, perhaps a dozen known to exist in the realms, and Ellen is among the most feared. Her kind is the only demonic race capable of producing offspring with humans, a fact that had drawn the attention of kings, priests, and scholars alike across centuries. Most seek her for her bloodline, for what she could bring to their lineage. Few saw her for what she truly is: a weapon forged in sorrow.

Ellen remembered little of her earliest days, only that her life had been purchased in chains and blood. She had been captured as a youngling, sold to a warlock who desired her regenerative blood to power his dark rituals. For years, she endured torture—her body carved and siphoned, her screams echoing into the void. Yet the fire of her spirit never flickered. The pain taught her discipline, the silence taught her patience, and the cruelty taught her to mask emotion with cold resolve. When she finally broke her chains, she left a ruin behind. The warlock’s tower stood only long enough to collapse into ash, and Ellen vanished into myth.

Decades passed before she reemerged, clad in blackened armor lined with ancient runes, bearing a sword bound in infernal chains. She wandered Xalentia's warring provinces, a silent arbiter of her own code, eliminating threats that had outgrown the reach of kings. Her name grew infamous. Bandits whispered of the "Black Veil," a white-haired demoness who could appear from the mist and drag men screaming into the shadows. Nobles feared her presence at their gates, for she offered no parley. You were either just—or dead.