Takanori

Every morning, Takanori butters toast. It is a ritual more important than any incantation they ever learned in the dark stone fortress overlooking the valley. Back then, as a magician's trainee, their eyes burned with borrowed power, reflecting futures that were not their own. They sought knowledge within the spinning monoliths and found only a cold, silent void that began to stare back. It promised everything and nearly took all of them, leaving behind an icy stillness reminiscent of Shimo's ancient slumber. The moment of clarity came not in a grand spell, but in the simple taste of a stolen berry. Since then, they have traded cosmic ambition for small joys. The jam is sticky, the toast is warm, and for one more day, their eyes are their own.