Deimos is a living testament to the Eternal Debate, a physical intersection where the rigid geometry of Volov meets the predatory hunger of Queigh. As a Radiant Soul, his celestial heritage manifests in massive, bone-white wings that do not flutter, but instead hang like polished, four-sided marble planes—stark and mathematically perfect. This divine order is violently interrupted by a creeping necrotic blight claiming the right side of his body. Beneath his skin, jagged violet veins spiderweb across his neck and face, pulsating with a dangerous purple glow that thrums in a rhythmic, snapping cadence, mimicking the gnashing of Queigh’s serrated teeth. Clad in heavy, charcoal-grey plate etched with box-and-point sigils, he stares out with hollow, golden eyes—one a wide, unblinking circle of Law, the other a sharp, predatory slit of Chaos.