Rakase

Rakase remembered the scent of charged air and the fractured light glinting off a monolith moments before the ambush. They had been a rising star among the shadow operatives of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, their speed a blur against the magical sunsets. But pride made them reckless. They led their unit straight into a rival wizard's trap and were the only one to escape the ensuing chaos. For seasons, they wandered the highest, coldest peaks, haunted by the faces of the lost. It was there they met Yuki, who offered no comfort, only a purpose. “The beasts out here are simple,” Yuki had said. “They do not lie.” Rakase now wears simple garb and follows their lead. The path is frozen and the training is brutal, but each step is a penance. The cold no longer feels like an ending, but the start of something clean.