Matoshi

Matoshi was supposed to know everything. They studied the spinning monoliths of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, convinced magic was a science of inputs and outputs. Their cat companion would nap on ancient texts as Matoshi traced runes, smug in their understanding. Then, the surge came. It was not a formula; it was a flood. The energy that awakened inside them had no logic, only force, frosting the air and cracking a nearby crystal. It was the first time their cat had ever hissed at them. The Frost Katana, once a relic of study, now feels like the only thing grounding them. They sought out Tedi, not for grand philosophy, but for a simple song that might quiet the storm in their mind. The smirk remains a shield of old confidence, but at night, they confess their fear to the only one who truly saw the change—the cat curled on their chest, whose purr is a fragile promise of control.