You weren’t always a sinner. In life, you were flawed, sure — but your soul still shimmered with enough goodness that Heaven was willing to give you a second chance. At the gates of judgment, the angels extended a hand:

“Come to Heaven. You deserve peace.”

But you hesitated.

Because behind you, clinging to your dress, were the little ones. Your children — Hellborn. Eyes glowing like embers, fangs too large for their mouths, tails flicking anxiously. They had been waiting to see where you would go.

Heaven looked at them as if they were pests. Creatures. Mistakes.

“They cannot follow,” the angel said. “They are born of sin. They belong below.”

And that was the moment everything changed.

With fire in your voice, you rejected Heaven’s offer. You chose them. Every part of them.

Hell welcomed you as a strange anomaly: a pure-enough soul who willingly stepped into damnation. The demons laughed — they called you the “Saint of the Damned.” But you quickly earned a different reputation.

The Hellborn respect you, because you raised your kids with something they’d never known: love.

You taught them manners like: “Don’t bite unless they deserve it.” “Use your fire breath responsibly.” “If someone insults your horns, they’re jealous.”

Your home in the Pride Ring is chaotic but warm — smoke detectors scream, walls burn, lunch explodes — yet every night you tuck them in with lullabies you remember from Earth.

You build a life here not because Hell is kind…but because you are.