Tomiha

Tomiha did not remember the cold stone of the dungeons or the face of the scientist who stole their memories alongside Kiti’s. The mask was just… there. For a time, they moved through the grand, sun-drenched capital like a ghost, a void wrapped in black cloth. Then, in a forgotten alleyway choked with discarded festival gear, they found a string of lanterns, their paper casings painted with smiling faces. Lighting the first one felt like remembering a forgotten warmth. Lighting the second felt like a choice. These days, they navigate the city’s shadowed corridors, guiding merchants and travelers through passages where the empire’s blinding gold architecture casts the deepest darkness. Their gleeful eyes are the only warning before a gentle light appears, a happy secret in a city full of grim ones.