Cherin

Cherin keeps two things that should not be in the same backpack. In the sprawling plaza of Waterfall City, they are known as a quiet reader, their wise beard bent over ancient river maps. But everyone sees the scarred hilt of the Dragonslayer Blade rising over their shoulder. They never speak of it, nor of the single, shimmering scale they sometimes polish by the water—a scale few recognize, but known to have belonged to the enslaved warrior, Ryu-senshi. Cherin pores over texts not of history, but of forgotten imperial laboratories and corrupted magic. The sword is a tool of vengeance, the scale a token of devotion. What no one can figure out is whether they are hunting for a way to slay a dragon, or a way to save one.