Kiana
“It is your destiny. You must protect them.”
“I don’t understand! Protect who?!”
“All of them.”
Kiana’s parents knew, from the moment she was born, that she was no mere human. At the moment of her birth, once the mess of labour had been cleared from her body, this was made clear by Asona’s mark on her wrist: a silver, baby dragon tattoo, a clear sign she was destined for great things, in her parents’ minds at least. The church in Helgafel obviously agreed, because they offered Kiana’s parents a very generous sum, if they would just give Kiana to the church to be raised “properly”. Poor people, and having 3 older children to feed, it didn’t take them long to agree, and so Kiana was taken away but weeks after her birth.
Kiana knew almost none of this. She was simply told that she had been born to a member of the church, who unfortunately died in childbirth. As she grew older, so too did the tattoo on her wrist begin to depict a more and more mature dragon. Once she was old enough to understand, if barely, it was made very clear to her that she had but one, divine purpose: to protect others from evil, and to give her life if necessary to keep the other people of Mythraila safe. These teachings by the church were backed up by her celestial guide, Gabriela. A stern and fierce angelic warrior, she reinforced time and again that Kiana was to be a shield for the world, and ensured that she kept up with her fighting practice. Day after day, year after year, with hardly any time off, Kiana trained to be a paladin. But with this fighting spirit, Gabriela also – accidentally- trained a kind and compassionate attitude into Kiana as well, making her a unique blend of fierce and gentle.
During her time in the church, she met someone who would come to be her best friend: Kura Lightstorm. He was ostracized by the other members of the church for his interest in blood magic, and Kiana was often ignored by the other younger members for her devotion to training. Recognizing a kindred soul, as well as a fellow aasimar, Kiana quickly latched onto Kura, and they could often be found either studying together, or else taking on other duos in the church in practice brawls. Never having had a friendship like this, Kiana quickly made a promise to herself: that she would die before she would let something happen to Kura. Although not at all different to what she had been taught her whole life, this promise was special in one, very important way.
It had been her choice.
For as long as she could remember, Kura had been her only friend. He came to the church, small and scrawny and confused, and she knew then and there that he was family; a kindred soul. So when her Kura, still small, still scrawny, came home from his walk in the city, pale and covered in blood, rambling about other children and knives and alleyways, Kiana saw white. Her rage wasn’t red, not like she had read about – it was white hot and radiant and it burned. She stood and left in the middle of his excitement about his newfound power, because she knew she was going to explode, and Kura wasn’t her target. Oh no.
It took her a while, to find the ones who had done it. But find them she did.
Kura wasn’t the only one who went back to the church covered in blood that day.
She didn’t remember much about the fight, but she did remember that it took at least 2 city guard to pull her off the last child; she remembered that the guards had shown up too late; that she was already surrounded by the moaning little bodies of the ones who had dared to hurt her family.
She remembered the look on Cleric Bencham’s face when he found out what she did. The scolding she received, and the extra chores and lessons that ate up her free time for months afterwards.
She remembered the fury that Gabriela unleashed on her. She remembered doing drills at her behest, until she was sore and crying and could barely stand.
And she remembered the look on Kura’s face when she got back, the look that they shared. It was the moment that solidified that they were family; they had chosen one another. And Asona help whoever tried to come between that.
Slash, now block, duck, scramble, sweep his feet, and…
Kiana grinned in triumph as she managed to pin Julian on his back, her sword at his throat. He was one of the few at the church who still posed a challenge to her in the sparring ring, and every victory was worth the feeling of pride in her chest. She stayed still a few moments, and then removed her sword, offering her hand to help him up. And like every time before, he ignored it, standing on his own, glaring at her.
Used to this treatment, but still frustrated, she simply offered him a nod. “It was a good fight, as per usual, Julian. Until next time.” With this, she sheathed her sword, and turned to walk away.
“Hey! I want to go again.” Julian, angry, embarrassed, shouted at her back. Her steps hesitated, and seeing this, he continued. “Or is the precious chosen protector too good to spar with the lowly likes of an ordinary trainee?”
She shouldn’t have let those words provoke her. It wasn’t the first time her position in the church had been used to taunt her, and it wouldn’t be the last. But she was frustrated, and she was tired: Gabriela had visited her dreams again last night, unhappy with the progress of Kiana’s training, and drilled her until Kiana awoke, fatigued and unrested. So, Kiana unsheathed her sword, and attempted to keep her anger at bay, as she waited for Julian to make his first move.
He did, charging at her, reckless as usual. Luckily for him, he had the skill to back it up. Unluckily for Kiana, so intent was she on parrying his blows, looking for an opening, she didn’t realize that Julian’s cleric partner, Colby, had slipped into the room.
The guiding bolt hit her from the side, followed quickly by a second, taking her off guard. She stumbled, and tried to right herself, but Julian was too quick. A few quick movements of his practice sword, and she had dropped hers from her stinging hand, falling onto her side. She turned to glare up at Julian, but he didn’t give her the time as he began raining down blows, taking out his frustrations.
She knew that all the other trainees, aside from Kura, disliked her. Since they were children, Kiana had received preferential treatment, because of her Aasimar heritage, and Asona’s mark on her hand. This never sat well with any of the others, and she had been the target of cruel comments, and harsh attacks in the sparring ring. None of them had ever resorted to this sort of aggressive attack, until now.
Kiana left the sparring room that day, bruised and beaten, holding a hand to her sore ribs, doing what she could to heal herself. She needed to make it to her room, where she had a potion stashed, before anyone saw her. Afterwards, well… it looked like she’d be sparring with the dummy’s in the solo training room, from now on.
She never lets Kura know how much his powers hurt her.
He probably guesses some, she knows. She’s spoken of Gabriela, doesn’t keep her guardian a secret. Gabriela has always pushed her to drop Kura and has always punished her when she refused; Kura isn’t stupid, she knows that he sees the darkness under her eyes, the fatigue in her limbs, after one of these visits. Celestials, or at least her celestial, has never understood the ties of human family.
(Kiana doesn’t know that this isn’t true; after all, there’s a reason Gabriela pulled strings, had Kiana sold off, like a lamb to the slaughter, before she could even learn to love her mother’s embrace. Families got in the way, gave a person something to live for.)
But even though she loves him, accepts him fully, his powers hurt her; every prick of his finger, every scar on his hand, wrist, arm. It hurts the most when he does it for her; a slice of the palm, her bruises heal, and another gash opens on her soul. She trains, harder, longer, trying to be perfect, because every hit she takes has a cost for the both of them. When she sees him go down, when he falls from the sky in a flash of light and blood, something in her soul finally just tears, breaks, rips. She doesn’t trust anyone to have her back like Kura does; doesn’t trust anyone else to look out for her. But she also can’t- no, won’t- imagine him dying for her. That wasn’t how it’s supposed to go.
She doesn’t have an answer, and other than scolding him, telling him not to use that spell ever again, says nothing. She will never be the one to make Kura feel less than.
She’s a protector, after all. And if all it costs is everything she has to give, well, then, that’s a price she’s willing to pay.
Kiana had been having dreams of Gabi since she was very, very little. She didn’t think that was weird; Gabi was special, and Kiana’s bestest friend. She sat with Kiana and told her stories about heroes slaying dragons and saving whole worlds. All the heroes sounded so cool, and Gabi promised that one day, Kiana could be just like them!
“You’ll have to work very hard, and do as I say, Kiana. But if you do, I promise you will be very, very special.”
Kiana was happy. She wanted to be special, like Gabi. She wanted to be strong, and brave, like the heroes in her story. When Gabi told her on her fourth birthday that they were going to start training, Kiana was so excited. She was going to be a hero! She was going to be special.
But things changed with Gabi. She told Kiana she was too old for silly nicknames, and insisted she call her Gabriela. She also said she was getting to old for stories: she had heard them all, and now it was time to put in the work.
The dreams went from being the best part about going to sleep, to the worst. Kiana was always waking up tired, and her brain felt so full, her shoulders so heavy, she didn’t want to get out of bed; but the clerics didn’t like a layabout, and she still had to start learning her letters and numbers. Kiana started to get very sad; she was very lonely, now that her best friend didn’t feel like a friend anymore.
And then Kura showed up, and everything changed. Kiana had a friend; she didn't have to be alone anymore! He was still little, and he didn’t talk much. But he didn’t tell Kiana to go away, and he sat next to her in lessons. Kiana was very excited, and for the first time in a while, was excited again to dream of Gabriela.
But Gabriela was not happy.
“You are going to stop associating with that boy immediately, Kiana! He is a disgrace to the aasimar, and he will do nothing but drag you down.”
For the first time, Kiana said no.
And for the first time, Gabriela punished her. Harshly.
Although it was a dream, Kiana awoke, sore, and with scars on her back. She barely held back the tears; she was just shy of five, but Gabriela had already hardened some parts of her. Anyone else might have walked away from Kura; turned their back and not thought about it twice.
But Kiana was supposed to be a hero. Kiana was supposed to be special. And heroes didn’t turn their back on their friends.
Shortly after Kura came to the church, whispers started. Whispers of orphan and freak and blood magic. The one that sticks out to her is orphan; she hasn’t heard it before, she’s unsure of why its an insult. She doesn’t want to upset her new friend, so she goes to one of the clerics, asks what it means, and finds another label to add to herself.
Aasimar, hero, protector, orphan
She doesn’t ask how her parent’s died; is confused how people she’s never met could have such a deep impact on who she is. She lets it sit, for years, festering and curling, wondering but never asking.
What finally prompts her is a day at the fair. She is 14, she is tired, but Kura is curious, and wants to go. She goes with him, a small part of her curious as well. They have a good time: there’s food and games, entertainers and so many people. Kiana never knew there was so many people in their little town.
Then she sees them.
A mother and father, there with their small daughter, swinging between them with a big smile on her face. (Kiana doesn’t think she’s ever smiled that widely) Her hair is so blonde, it’s almost as white as Kiana’s own hair, and her giggles can be heard even through the crowd, and something in Kiana pulls, just a bit, just enough to hurt.
The next day, Kiana finally asks. Who were her parents? How did the die? Why did she never know?
The clerics answered plainly, but they at the very least answer: Her mother was a cleric, wouldn’t say who Kiana’s father was. She died in childbirth, and with her last breath begged the head cleric to raise Kiana as a member.
And that was that. Kiana doesn’t question any of the answers in the story (how exactly does a cleric die in childbirth, surrounded by other clerics?) and instead, is just grateful to have answers. The tugging doesn’t necessarily go away, not at first. But at least now, she knows.
Besides, it’s not like she is completely without family.
Kiana isn’t sure how long it took her to notice the random, oddly shaped scars that appeared on Kura. It could’ve been weeks, months, years; but once she noticed, there was no going back.
It was during one of their studying sessions. She couldn’t remember how old they were; a lot of those years were a blur of happiness and fatigue and love and pain. He moved his arm, his sleeve rode up, and there it was. She was used to him having scars on his arm; after all, his magic always required a sacrifice. But this wasn’t like the others. Instead of being a straight, silvery line, it was a whole patch of flesh, as if someone had peeled it off. The edges of her vision began to bleed white, and she grabbed his arm, gently but firmly, to take a closer look. Then, she looked up at him.
“Who. Did. This.” She could hear the echo in her voice; the angel in her blood, simmering in the back, waiting to be unleashed. She was older now than the last time. Stronger. She didn’t think that the perpetrator would survive this time, and that didn’t bother her as much as it should have.
Kura tried to pull his arm back, looking down and away, the same way he always did when he didn’t want to see the imagined scorn and disgust in her eyes. (If he’d just look her in the face, he’d know there was never scorn, never disgust. Sometimes sadness, but that was hers to bear, silently.) After several moments of tense silence, Kiana repeated her question. This time, she got an answer.
“I did.” The air went still. The white left her eyes, to be replaced with horror, with sadness; not at him, but for him, the only friend who never loved himself enough.
She didn’t ask why. She had noticed the mark not long ago, she knew he struggled in ways she couldn’t imagine, or maybe didn’t want to. Instead, she used her grip to pull him into a hug, holding him there; trying to transfer all the love and respect and sense of home she felt with him, into him. Tried to take his sense of pain, of not being enough, from his shoulders onto her own. (What was one more thing to weigh her down; nothing, nothing at all.) She didn’t know if it worked; this wasn’t her forte, it was easier when outside forces were hurting her friend, when she could do something about it except for hope.
She eventually let him go. It was just another secret to add to the growing pile between them. He healed the scars left by her dreams; and she did her best to heal the scars he left on himself, both outside and in, and hoped that it was enough.
Personality Characteristics
Virtues & Personality perks
Tenets of Devotion
Honesty. Don't lie or cheat. Let your word be your promise.
Compassion. Aid others, protect the weak, and punish those who threaten them. Show mercy to your foes, but temper it with wisdom.
Honor.Treat others with fairness, and let your honorable deeds be an example to them. Do as much good as possible while causing the least amount of harm.
Duty. Be responsible for your actions and their consequences, protect those entrusted to your care, and obey those who have just authority over you.
