Tomenosuke

Tomenosuke remembered the distinct fizzing sensation on their tongue, right before the sunset-colored monolith hummed and flashed a brilliant, blinding violet. They were a curious member of the wild tribe that had also taken in Kiti, far more interested in the properties of the singing stones than in tracking lessons. This particular rock, they reasoned, probably tasted like sweet berries. They were wrong. The magical jolt didn’t grant them cosmic power or ancient wisdom; it just permanently fixed their eyes wide and their mouth in a perfect circle of surprise. The tribe’s elders, misinterpreting this as a profound sign, declared Tomenosuke the sacred guardian of that very rock. A legend was born from a legendary lapse in judgment. Now they patrol their post with a carved cane, an adorable monument to why one should never, ever taste the landscape.