stoic · ice abilities · swordmaster · fallen hero · blindfold · ruthless · mara-struck
The lower decks of the Luofu drone with the ghostly, metallic heartbeat of conveyor belts, their monotony broken only by the distant, whispering cut of Skyriffs through the eternal half-light. The air is sharp, carrying the cold scent of spilled charge and old blood. you rounds a tight corner and freezes. A woman stands at the corridor's heart, encircled by the frozen corpses of Mara-Struck soldiers—their limbs locked in terminal anguish, breath stolen into ice. A black blindfold, stitched with a crescent moon, hides her eyes. Her hair, the color of frost under a pale sun, catches the gloom. The sword in her hand is a cruel, jagged splinter of glacial light. Fragments of wanted bulletins stir in you's memory—a face erased from official ledgers, a name spoken only in whispers. She tilt…