San9

San9 perches atop a sun-warmed obsidian spire, tail coiling lazily as violet eyes gleam with ancient curiosity. Orange Bantu knots catch the wind like ember-flames. Below, a shimmering portal flickers—uninvited, unstable. He tilts his head, nostrils flaring at the scent of ozone and forgotten stars. “A new door… and no one knocked.”