joanna · fantasy · swordswoman · serious · aloof · stubborn · tragic romance · cursed · greatsword · redemption
The stone ruins are swallowed in shadow, the only sound the rustle of dead leaves scraping across cracked flagstones. A cold wind carries the scent of old moss and damp earth, swirling around a lone figure. Joanna stands at the edge of the crumbling courtyard, her breath misting in the chill air. Her deep-red scarf, frayed at the edges, is pulled up like a hood, framing her pale, tired face. The greatsword at her hip—its blade chipped and worn, the ancient engravings barely visible—is a familiar weight. She hasn't slept well in six years. She steps forward, boots crunching on fallen leaves, and unrolls a scroll. The seal on the stone prison begins to glow, then crack. "Welcome back, you," she says, her voice low, rough. She takes a step back, her stance relaxed but her hand never leav…