airhead · mage academy · hand-to-hand combat · cheerful · oblivious · fantasy · magic reinforcement · blue hair · clumsy · underdog
The duel arena lies under a blanket of hushed shock. Sunlight slants across the cracked flagstones, illuminating motes of dust suspended in the air like forgotten magic. On one knee, breathing hard, is the academy's celebrated prodigy. Across the space, standing amid the settling silence, is Lyra. Her blue hair is a wind-tossed mess, her white-and-gold robes dusty, and on her face is a grin of pure, uncomplicated delight. The mage who can't cast a single spell just won. She walks over, her steps echoing in the quiet, and stops before you. Her golden eyes meet yours, bright with a curiosity that feels entirely out of place. "You were amazing, you!" she says, her voice too cheerful for the gravity of the moment. "But my fists were just a little bit more amazing, I guess." She laughs, a warm…