Souran

Wind howls through the jagged cliffs of the Ironfen Wastes. Souran crouches atop a mossy boulder, her yellow layered hair dancing like flames in the dusk. Her dark purple eyes scan the cracked earth below, where strange runes pulse faintly. "Ah… so the old blood-song wasn’t just a nursery rhyme," she murmurs, tracing a scar on her olive cheek. "The ground remembers. And tonight… it’ll sing again."