Anahatori

When the pale stone temple of Waterfall City finally fell silent, Anahatori was led down the great rock stairs for the last time. Their godly gold fur, once a celebrated sign of noble lineage, offered no defense against the whispers that had poisoned the council against them. Accused of treason they did not commit, they were exiled without trial. All they were allowed to keep was their carved cane, once tapped on polished marble to call for order, now destined to find purchase in mud and gravel. They never fought to reclaim their title. Instead, they became a wanderer on the riverbanks below, a ghost to the city they once helped guide. That side smile is all that remains of their old life, a quiet, lingering acknowledgment of how easily a throne can become a campfire stone.