Kiseki

Kiseki was supposed to be lighting the festival lanterns. During the annual Tide-Turning Gala in Waterfall City, their job was to ignite the wicks of the paper fish floating above the plaza. But a group of young frog-merchants dared them to do something more spectacular. With a playful grin, Kiseki inhaled, intending to puff a single, harmless spark. The roar that erupted from them was not a spark. A torrent of ruby-red fire lashed out, missing the crowd but striking the great stone fish statue at the plaza’s center. The cheering died. When the smoke cleared, a permanent black scorch mark marred the pale stone, a testament to a joke that went too far. It was the first time Kiseki saw awe turn so quickly to fear.