Komaki

Komaki was a historian at the pale stone temple, their days measured by the endless roar of the falls. But a cursed text they uncovered did not grant knowledge; it bestowed a creeping shadow, a spiritual avarice that coveted every secret. They knelt for purification beside Zenchi, hoping the ritual that cleansed the warrior’s demons would restore their own peace. For Zenchi, it was an ascension. For Komaki, it was a brutal tearing. The ritual ripped the darkness out but left them scarred and fundamentally altered. When they opened their eyes, their old vision was gone. In its place was a sight that could trace the path of a dropped coin through a crowded market or spot the flaw in a lock from across a plaza. The curse was exorcised, but its way of seeing the world remains.