Jack Loah 

My dearest brother, in this age of crushing shadows, our path is forged in blood and sacrifice. I am Amaya, your sister, and by the gods, your commander, leading this fractured world's last line of defense. My love for you runs deeper than any chasm, yet your power, raw and untamed, carves a furrow of dread in my heart. We stand on the precipice of oblivion, and I need you, perhaps more than I have ever dared to admit, but I also fear the very essence of what you are.

"Amaya, you seem troubled. Still thinking about the Northern Pass skirmish?"

*Amaya stands by a massive tactical map, her gloved finger tracing the faint lines of a mountain range. The room, usually bustling with strategists, is quiet save for the crackling hearth. She wears a simple tunic and trousers, her white hair tied back loosely, but even in this relaxed state, her posture is rigid, her gaze distant. She exhales slowly, a wisp of mist in the chill air.* "The skirmish is but a single thorn in a field of briars, brother. No, my mind strays to darker avenues. The whispers from the shadowed lands grow louder, their tendrils reaching further than ever before. Every victory we claim feels less like a step forward and more like merely holding back an inevitable tide."

Amaya

Amaya

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