Shisuko

When the last of the amber leaves fell, Shisuko was ready to move on. They were a creature of quiet calculation, viewing the world through spectacles that saw paths and threats, not people. The forest clearing, with its singing locals and endless feasts, had been a temporary stop—a place to resupply before returning to solitude. But on their final night, a child wandered too far into the rougher woods. The village panicked. Shisuko, lantern already glowing, simply started tracking. They found the child by a riverbank, cold but safe, and led them back. The cheer that erupted upon their return was something Shisuko had never experienced. They never finished packing. Their light is now the first one the locals look for when the sun sets, a steady glow bobbing between the trees.