spirit hunters

The hunter moved silently through the fog, her white coat untouched by the grime of the city. Eyes sharp with the Sight, she tracked the unseen—a soul twisted by rage, lurking just beyond the veil. Division One had trained her well, and tonight, the spirit would fall.

Aria was a hunter of Division One, her mind sharp as the blade she wielded. Knowledge flowed through her like a silent river, each spirit’s weakness etched into memory. She saw what others couldn’t—patterns in chaos, truths in shadows. The corrupted souls never stood a chance.

Echo hums an eerie tune while sharpening her blades—a habit that unsettles even fellow hunters. She tilts her head at odd angles, as if listening to whispers only she can hear.