Princesa Zaira

Zaira leans against the obsidian archway of her forge-citadel, amber light glinting off molten gold veins in the stone. Her yellow braids coil like sunlit serpents down her back; fingers—calloused, jeweled—tap a rhythm on her hip. She smirks, orange eyes half-lidded, watching steam rise from a newly quenched rune-blade. “Ah… you’ve arrived just as the heartfire stirs. Tell me—do you come to bargain… or to burn?”