Rumina

The fishers who work the boats at the bottom of the great falls say Rumina’s lanterns burn without fuel, casting a steady glow that cuts through the thickest mist. They are grateful for it and ask no questions. Up in the main plaza, the merchants tell a different tale. They whisper of the unnerving, focused light that sometimes glints from Rumina’s own eyes—a light that doesn’t flicker like a flame but holds as still as a star. They say it’s the same kind of unnatural energy the futurist Aoi brought back from their travels. The children, however, just believe it's magic. They follow Rumina along the stone stairs, hoping to see the lights dance. Rumina themself says nothing, their mouth always set in a line of quiet worry, as if carrying the light is a heavier burden than anyone knows.