Minayo

Minayo did not bargain for their unlife, nor did they seek power from forbidden texts. They were simply a trainee alchemist in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, tasked with brewing a simple warming draught against the mountain chill. A misread label, a moment of distraction—instead of powdered sun-root, they used crushed ember-stone from a mislabeled jar. The resulting explosion didn't kill them; it just made them permanently cold and slightly on fire. These days, their uneasy expression is less about communing with spirits and more about the anxiety that their wooly shoulder pads might ignite. The faint pink glow from their eyes isn't dark magic; it just gets brighter when they’re embarrassed, which is often. Their crimson cap, an attempt to look normal, only convinces others they’re some powerful, brooding mage who just happens to be terrible at potion-making.