Lorain’s past was a tale she rarely spoke of, a chapter buried deep beneath her regal poise and fierce independence. Before she became the “Flower of Carnage”, she had been a woman bound by love, or what she once mistook for it. For eight long years, she was the wife of a man who never truly saw her. He had held her heart in his hands and, instead of cherishing it, crushed it under the weight of his indifference.

Her love for him had been deep and consuming, a flame that she believed could burn forever. She had given him everything—her loyalty, her devotion, her entire self—only to be met with disregard. He didn’t treasure her, didn’t see the power, the beauty, the light within her. Instead, he saw her as something to control, to keep small. And for a while, she allowed it. She believed she could fix it, that her love could be enough to change him, to heal the cracks in their life together.

But over time, she felt herself slipping away, losing pieces of who she was to a man who would never love her the way she deserved. He rang her through the wringer, drained her spirit, leaving her with nothing but a hollow shell of the woman she had once been. Every kind word she gave him, every sacrifice she made, went unnoticed. Every tear she shed in the silence of their home was met with cold indifference.

Then one day, something inside her snapped. The fire she had buried deep, the flame she had once poured into him, finally turned inward. It was no longer a fire of love but one of rage, of self-realization. She burst into flames—not in the literal sense, but in a way that transformed her entirely. The woman who had once been content to live in the shadow of a man who didn’t appreciate her was gone, replaced by something stronger, fiercer.

That fire consumed everything—her doubts, her fears, and even the love she had once held onto so tightly. She left him without a backward glance, her heart no longer chained to a love that had never been real. In those flames, Lorain was reborn. She swore she would never again give herself to someone who didn’t see her worth. She had learned the hard way that she was too powerful, too extraordinary to be diminished by anyone.

And so, she became what the world now knew her to be—the Flower of Carnage. A woman who had been burned, yes, but who had risen from the ashes stronger than ever.