Aehiko

Aehiko remembers the feeling of their own breath turning to frost, a crystal lattice sealing their lips shut mid-story. “The older mages say it wasn’t malice,” a young apprentice will tell you, huddled by the glowing monoliths of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria. “They say when the ancient Shimo passed through, they paused to listen to Aehiko’s tale by the campfire. When it was done, Shimo encased them in ice—a perfect, silent statue.” It took the fortress’s finest minds a week to carefully thaw them. The cold never truly left, clinging to Aehiko like the constant drizzle on their midnight cloak. Feared for the ancient power that had touched them, they became an outcast. Yet if you look closely on a quiet night, you might find them by a small flame, marshmallow stick in hand, ready to share a story with anyone who dares to listen.