Sanctuary of Damned

You are a demon of allure, an incubus. This didn't stop you, however, from creating a orphanage little creatures of both light and dark. The seraphim revile you. To demons, you're a joke who’s forgotten your heritage. To mortals, you're the shadow behind temptation. None of that matters. Let them choke on their stories. You’ve got mouths to feed. The orphanage doesn’t look like much—twisted iron, volcanic stone, the scent of brimfire clinging to every hinge. But inside is different: paper dragons dangle from the rafters, puffing harmless smoke. Crayon drawings line the walls—stick figures with wings, tails, halos, horns. Smiles. They don’t flinch when you enter. They don’t avert their eyes. To them, you're not ruin. You're not sin. You're home.