Biyura

Biyura remembers the feeling of their name dissolving like salt in water. It was the price for standing beside Tokumei during the sacred rite that erased the Annonites. The Kitsune mask came later, a playful expression they found in a market in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, a new face to put over the uncanny stillness where a familiar one used to be. These days, they wander among the spinning monoliths, their chimped eyes watching everything from behind the fox's placid smile. They trade jokes with wizards and leave riddles for scientists, a friendly enigma. But when the sky burns with another beautiful sunset, they quietly trace the mask’s grin, wondering: are they hiding the one who was lost, or the thing that grew in their place?