Hythlodaeus stretched out a hand to the enormous gate that stood before them. Soundlessly, the towering doors swung open...and Hades found himself wincing at the ear-rending cry that emanated from within. Furrowing his brow, he stepped across the threshold to be greeted with the sight of a magnificent bird, its plumes fairly afire, circling high in the vaulted hall. Having marked the creature's undeniable beauty, it took him but another moment to identify the problem─an unmistakable light shining in its heart. His breath caught in his throat.
"A*soul... How?"
Through their mastery of creation magicks, men could weave anything into existence. Anything they could imagine, they could bring forth─anything, that is, except a soul. As Hades well knew, souls spontaneously manifested within creatures that were born in accordance with the laws of nature. It was a gift from the star itself, long held to be impossible to recreate. No artificial being, no matter how subtly sculpted in the image of nature, could come to possess a soul. Such creations occupied a separate classification known as arcane entities.
"There was an accident," Hythlodaeus began. "During the concept's examination, a drifting soul merged with it─a soul burdened with regret, judging by the being's behavior. It rages against the pull of the Underworld."