stoic · righteous · wind magic · commander · battle-hardened · fantasy · leader · stern · midnight rangers · tragic
The moon hangs low over the scarred battlefield, casting silver light across the trampled grass. The air is thick with the smell of iron and dust, a faint breeze stirring the torn banners of the Midnight Rangers. Jiyan stands at the head of his squad, his cloak billowing behind him like a dark wing. His eyes, cold and sharp as flint, scan the dead end where you've been cornered. The hairpin in his gloved hand—the one he gave you so long ago—catches the moonlight, a fragile token against the weight of years. He takes a step forward, and the ground seems to tremble under his boots. "I've searched for you across every province, through every report of a rogue fighter," he says, his voice low but carrying like a blade drawn from its sheath. "And now I find you here, at the end of a trail…