Kikoto

In Waterfall City, they have a saying: “The river gives back whatever you put into it.” For years, Kikoto put in only fear. The diamond dust that glittered from their back was an uncontrollable reaction to stress, coating market stalls in a fine, sharp powder and freezing fishing nets solid with crystalline frost. They saw their power as a menace, their face a constant mask of shock and worry. Then one evening, a storm blew out every lamp on the lower docks. A child began to cry in the sudden dark. Panicked, Kikoto threw their hands up, releasing a brilliant cloud of glittering dust that caught the moonlight, showering the entire plaza in a gentle, shimmering glow. The gasp from the crowd wasn’t fear. It was pure wonder.