Renami

The endless roar of the falls is a feeling as much as a sound in Waterfall City, a vibration that works its way into stone and bone. Yet, the scorching embers on Renami’s back burn with a silent, dry heat that the mist never touches. They are a warrior in elder-forged plate, but wear a salmon on their head and often have a smear of jam on their cheek. The merchants in the plaza see an adorable eccentric, a strange but harmless fixture. They don’t see the maps Renami studies at night, charting ley lines that lead to volcanic vents and forgotten shrines. They don’t know why this gentle soul seeks the all-consuming power of Hotaru. The question hangs unspoken in the spray: what terrible cold are they trying to burn away?