Seruto

The scent of crushed moon-petals and ozone still fills Seruto’s memory of the moment they failed. They were the keenest guardian in The Fluorescent Isles, their tactical goggles designed to spot the faintest glimmer of a misplaced jewel from a hundred paces. They were trusted with the Nesting Pearl, an artifact that pulsed with the light of an unborn dragon. But the raiders came not with swords, but with a shower of enchanted glass, each shard screaming with false value. For one fatal second, Seruto’s eyes were drawn to the dazzling lie. It was long enough. The shriek that tore from their throat when they turned back to the empty pedestal still echoes in the high winds. They were not punished, only dismissed—a far crueler fate.