Moare

Moare traced a precise line of fire across the damp plaza stones, the embers on their back pulsing with a heat that felt alien to their arctic fur. They were not born to this fire. They grew up in Waterfall City, their mind as clear and cool as the river spray, their days spent poring over texts. But during a raid on the lower docks, a dormant power erupted, saving them but scorching their sense of self. In the city archives, they found tales of Hotaru, the Flame Soul, and saw a terrifying reflection—a being consumed entirely by its own power. That would not be their fate. The gem-lined coat they wear is a cooling burden of discipline, a physical anchor against the fire that whispers of power without price.