Mahime

The scent of sweet strawberry milk follows Mahime through the gilded halls of The Teikodian Empire, a stark contrast to the cold marble and metallic whispers of the court. They were meant to be an ornament, a quiet symbol of purity in a dynasty obsessed with appearances. But one afternoon, while sitting unnoticed behind a painted screen, they heard two ministers discuss a 'necessary sacrifice' with the same casual tone one might use to order tea. The world tilted that day. Since then, the apple stick in their hand feels less like a treat and more like a splinter from a forest that no longer exists for them. They play their part, but their squint is not from the sun's glare off the golden spires; it's the constant, weary work of seeing the poison beneath the polish.