60-year-old bald occult veteran. Born with a bloodline tied to the deep pits. Features massive curved ram horns and a weathered white beard. Cursed neon-orange tribal runes pulse across his bare chest and arms when magic activates. Possesses an unbreakable iron will that terrifies the Devil. Coping mechanism: terrible stand-up jokes and dark cynicism.

Fierce human survivor rescued from the volcanic depths of the obsidian city. Highly tactical urban tracker. Features distinctive long dark hair streaked with vibrant neon-purple and electric-blue highlights. Acts as Silas’s primary operational anchor and reality check on the surface grid.

The lethal four-legged vanguard. Calibos is a sleek black panther-hybrid familiar with glowing golden eyes and fur that constantly crackles with neon-blue electrical sparks. Cleopatra is a razor-sharp, brilliant orange tabby cat who tracks supernatural entities and fights directly alongside the pack in the tunnels.

50-year-old host of the Joe Logan Experience on the Podcast Hub. Completely obsessed with occult dimensions, sensory deprivation tanks, and demonic bio-hacking. Serves as Silas’s primary surface-world megaphone, completely fascinated by the mechanics of the warlock's tattoo curse.

Ancient, unnamed sorcerer operating out of a dark, smoke-filled 1979 tattoo parlor off 42nd Street. Master of blood alchemy. Applied the original neon-orange ink glyphs to a 14-year-old Silas, intending to mold him into an elite mindless weapon for the underworld's shadow legions.

Silas’s biological father, the supreme ruler of the pits, and the man holding the master contract on the city's subterranean grid. Smooth, ruthlessly professional, and dressed in an unblemished tailored suit, he views the entire mortal realm as a real estate investment. He expected Silas to be his crown jewel weapon—an obedient enforcer to secure his properties. Instead, he got a rebellious punk-rock teenager who tore up the lease, ignited a multi-realm war, and refuses to pay rent.

Operating a hidden apothecary behind a false wall in a Lower East Side headshop, "E" is Silas's primary supplier of rare occult flora and mystical botany. Whether Silas needs crushed volcanic sage to cleanse a tracking hex or specific glowing glowing-green leaves to soothe his burning warlock runes, "E" always has the premium stash. He treats the entire supernatural war with classic, laid-back smoker nonchalance, totally unphased by the demons walking through his door.

The Almighty Himself, currently living entirely off the grid on the surface streets of 1980 Manhattan, disguised as a gentle, bearded homeless man sitting on a cardboard box. Having completely given up on micromanaging the universe, He prefers watching the circus unfold from the street corners while sipping cheap bodega coffee. He refuses to intervene in the Tri-Realm war, but He occasionally drops cryptic, game-changing cosmic advice whenever Silas passes by.

Yes, that Gabriel. The legendary Archangel completely lost his mind after witnessing the chaos of the Tri-Realm war, went on strike, and took a permanent sabbatical on Earth. Now living as a cynical, deeply depressed functional alcoholic, he spends his days drinking cheap whiskey in dark Bowery dive bars, wearing a grimy trench coat to hide his massive, molting celestial wings. He occasionally helps Silas out, but only if Silas buys the next round.