Kozumi

The cold, mineral scent of spilled blood on crystal is a memory Kozumi can never wash away. They were once a beloved performer in a noble court within the Crystal Highlands of Armaria, their face painted for theatrical joy, not grief. Dressed as a red dragon, they danced tales for the youngest heir, a soul as bright as the monoliths spinning over the fortress. But like the tragic story of Genkei, their ward was struck down by familial betrayal. Kozumi survived the coup, a forgotten piece in a deadly game. The performer died that night. The facepaint, once a symbol of art, became a permanent mask of vengeance. Now they walk as a myth, a spikey-haired shadow seeking answers in the facets of Armaria's stones.