Naimi

Naimi balanced on the edge of a humming crystal monolith, katana drawn not to fight, but to catch the last rays of a violet sunset. Their instructor said the monoliths of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria demanded reverence and complex formulae, but Naimi found they responded better to rhythm. They would trace patterns in the air with their blade, humming a tune from their childhood, and feel the massive rock thrum in response—a secret song only they could hear. One evening, the resonance grew too loud. The monolith flared with a light so bright it drew the attention of the fortress mages. They found Naimi grinning, eyes wide with ecstatic power, their blade still weaving. The head wizard just stared, their expression unreadable. 'What,' they finally asked, 'have you done?'