Renaho

Renaho flung their arms wide, a sheet of parchment fluttering as a shadow puppet of a dragon danced against the wall. Years ago, in The Great Panda City, their performances were the main event. They’d recite ancient battle epics to unimpressed Panda Council members, their voice booming, but the shadows they mimed were just tricks of lantern light. Then came the recital of the Umbral Texts. Lost in the verse, they felt a cold tug from beneath the stage. The shadow dragon grew, its form solidifying, its silent roar a gust that chilled the air. The vibrant eyes under their makeup widened in terror and awe; the power was real. These days, the Umbra Commander helmet feels heavier than any book. The shadows obey, but Renaho is an actor without a script. They've started asking after Hiro, the Beast Warrior, seeking a director for this new, unwritten act.