Yanako

Yanako keeps two lanterns, and only one is for lighting the path. They walk the spray-slicked steps of Waterfall City with a quiet, calculating grace, their grin a constant in the shifting mist. There was a time before the lanterns, a time of a single, uncontrolled fire—a fury that burned so hot it threatened to turn the city's rushing water to steam. It was the peacemaker Monku who saw not a monster, but a soul in agony. Monku’s counsel didn't extinguish the flame, but rather offered a way to carry it. Yanako learned to split the fire, caging it behind enchanted glass. One lantern holds the memory of a deep betrayal; the other holds the cold promise of retribution. No one knows which flame they follow on any given night.