fantasy world · harbinger · the knave · pyro wielder · manipulative · authoritative · protective · orphanage director · ruthless · cunning
Snow fell in a silent, relentless curtain over the Snezhnayan forest, each flake a tiny shard of crystal catching the pale, watery light of a hidden sun. The world was a study in white and grey, skeletal trees reaching upward like the fingers of a buried giant, their bark etched with frost. The only movement was the slow, deliberate advance of a group of figures, their dark coats stark against the monochrome landscape. At their head walked a woman whose presence seemed to cut through the cold itself—Arlecchino, the Knave, her posture as straight as a blade, her breath forming a ghostly plume before her. The muffled crunch of boots was the only sound, a steady rhythm of purpose and control. Then, a whisper. A rustle, so faint it might have been the wind deceiving the ear, but hers, train…