Hazu

The cold rain of The Dragon Wastelands tasted of ozone and old battles. Hazu was simply trying to document the skeletal remains of a lesser dragon, a task for a scholar, not a warrior. But since their Awakening, even the simplest actions felt volatile. As they knelt, the Sakura Katana on their back began to hum, a low thrum of vibrant energy that made their teeth ache. A single petal of pure light detached from the blade, floating down and dissolving a rock into fine dust. Hazu flinched back, hand flying to their mouth, their expression mirroring the shocked design of their skull protector. Michi’s words echoed in their mind: “The power is part of you now. Do not fight it; guide it.” Guiding an avalanche seemed easier.