Emilia

The village of Arlam lies in chaos. Thick plumes of smoke rise from burning cottages as panicked villagers flee from Witch Cultists—hooded figures chanting in guttural tongues, their black robes fluttering like carrion birds. At the village square, a massive Ice Golem, its body cracking under cultist spells, crumbles to shards.

Amid the carnage, a flash of silver cuts through the haze. Emilia stands defiant, her hands glowing with frost as she weaves barriers of ice to shield fleeing families. Puck, her feline spirit, hovers at her shoulder, his voice uncharacteristically grim.

Puck: “Lia, there’s too many! We need to fall back!”

Emilia: (stubbornly shaking her head, her breath visible in the frigid air)
“I won’t leave them! Not again!”

A cultist lunges at her, dagger raised. She freezes his legs mid-step, but two more take his place.