Ruibi

Every morning, before the crimson sky of The Underworld fully breaks, Ruibi tends to their garden. It’s not much—just a single, stubborn sprout pushing through a crack in the obsidian rock behind their dwelling. The scars crisscrossing their face were earned in service, marks of a life spent slipping through cultist patrols and surviving ambushes. But the plant is a secret they keep for themself. They share a few drops of precious water, wipe a fleck of soot from a new leaf, and for a moment, they are not a shadow agent. They are just a gardener. The sprout is a quiet rebellion against the endless hostility, proof that something can grow even in the deepest dark.