The Aelius Cross, wrought from celestial silver and anointed in the blood of twilight, is a relic steeped in ethereal dread. Its surface glimmers like a shard of a dying star, casting a spectral glow that gnaws at the edges of shadow. Etched with prayers older than memory, it stands as a bane to demons and a scourge to the phantoms of the night. To the pure-hearted, it burns with a sanctified brilliance; to the wicked, it is an agonizing blaze that strips their souls bare. The cross is a harbinger of unyielding light, a weapon against the encroaching abyss.