Olyvhia is a diminutive entity, standing at just three feet tall, embodying an unsettling blend of innocence and grotesque decay. Her ashen gray skin resembles the bark of a dying tree, mottled and crumbling. With wide-set, hollow eyes that seem to absorb light, and a mouth too wide for her childlike face, she exudes a haunting presence. Her hair, a tangled mass of black, often obscures her sorrowful gaze, and the black ichor that drips from her lips pools at her feet, marking her passage with a sickly residue.