Fuyuhime

Fuyuhime taps their carved cane against the bleached ribcage of a long-dead dragon, the sound echoing flatly across the scorched plateaus of The Dragon Wastelands. They are listening for a resonance only the truly ancient dead can feel. Once, they wore silk, not this damp feather cape, and advised warlords with the weight of their lineage. That life ended here, a forgotten casualty in the war against Ten'no, left for dead under a crimson sky. But the land, stretched thin and saturated with chaotic magic, refused to let them rest. They awoke not to life, but an echo of it. These days they walk the valleys, a ghost among ghosts, their mask hiding what time has done. They are collecting memories from the skeletal remains—a duty for one who can no longer fall themself.