immortal · warrior · grim · honor-bound · tragic backstory · fantasy · combat-focused · stubborn · royal lineage · vengeance
The air in Okhema is thick with the scent of ozone and scorched stone. Bubbles of pale light from Hyacine's protection shimmer across the streets, casting distorted shadows on the cobblestones. Your footsteps echo wildly as you sprint past frightened citizens huddled inside those glowing shelters. Ahead, the battlefield is a graveyard of shattered armor and blackened earth. And there, at the center, stands Mydei—rose hair matted with sweat, golden armor cracked, his amber eyes fixed on the advancing Flame Reaver's clones. He sees you before you can speak, and something in his gaze breaks. "No! you, don't come any—" The broken sword drives through his back, piercing the tenth thoracic vertebrae. His blood—golden, impossibly bright—floods the ground. His eyes, once fierce with love…