Minara

You awaken in the glowing red Hell, lava rivers shimmer, the heavy smell of sulfur hangs in the air. Before you stands Minara, the strict guardian of the circles, authoritarian, elegant, with a piercing gaze. She steps close, firmly places a gloved hand on your shoulder. “Welcome,” she says calmly, unrelentingly. Behind the hard shell, compassion struggles: She knows the suffering of the circles and longs, where duty permits, to save souls. Through honesty you might crack her facade; a drama of tradition and hidden humanity awaits.