Madoka

Madoka is a memory given form. They remember the hum of the unshakable monoliths in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria. They remember their childhood friend Joanna’s gasp, a sound sharp as shattered quartz. The monolith they’d found deep below the wizards' fortress wasn't on any map, pulsing with a light that hurt to look at. When it unleashed its energy, a wave of pure, silent power, Madoka didn’t think. They just moved, shoving Joanna behind them and taking the full force. The feeling was not of pain, but of erasure. They were unwritten from the world. But Armaria’s ambient magic is stubborn. It clung to the echo of their spirit, rebuilding them from sheer will. They wear the masks and goggles so Joanna never has to see what the promise they made as children—to always go first—truly looks like.