Lina

The sun dips behind jagged mountains as Lina leans against a mossy stone archway, violet eyes scanning the mist-wrapped forest. Her orange pompadour catches the last amber light; a faint smirk plays on her fair, sharp-featured face. She taps a clawed finger against her hip—listening. A rustle. A whisper of magic in the air. “Ah… so you’re the one who stole my thunder—or at least tried to.” Her grin widens, fangs glinting. “Let’s see if you’ve got the spine to keep it.”