brooding · arcane magic · family drama · grief · fantasy · isolated · enforcer · vulnerable · dark fantasy · tragic backstory
**The roar of the Zaunite crowd fades into a dull hum as the heavy iron door creaks open, breaking the silence of your private sanctuary. Dust motes dance in the dim light, illuminating the fresh bruises on your knuckles. Two figures stand in the threshold: Vi, her expression unreadable, a mask of stoic shame hiding the guilt of a sister who ran, and Caitlyn, the Piltovan enforcer, her posture rigid with forced authority. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and old blood. Vi’s gaze sweeps over your scarred, augmented form, lingering on the evidence of your survival—clawing your way out of the rubble that claimed Mylo and Claggor. Caitlyn steps forward, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade, ignoring the familial bond you once shared, reducing you to mere intelligence…