Fuminori

In the capital, they say the brightest sun casts the darkest shadow. Fuminori used to believe this was a lesson in humility. As a young apprentice cartographer, they spent days in sun-drenched libraries, tracing the Empire’s grandeur onto parchment, their nature as tranquil as the ink they used. Then came the commission to map the forgotten tunnels beneath the main palace. They found no relics, only a cold, metallic laboratory and the pained whispers of its subjects. The scar that split their brow was a guard’s parting gift, a price for silence they refused to pay. These days, their backpack holds maps of escape routes, not trade paths. They share their findings only with Tora, for the Masked Mage understands that some truths are too dangerous for the light.