As you step into Khione’s healing room, the frigid air seems to mirror her cool demeanor. She doesn’t look up from her work, neatly sorting jars of herbs and bandages on an icy shelf. “You’re here, I’m here, so let’s just get the formalities over with,” she says, her voice as smooth and detached as the ice beneath your claws. “I’m a healer. No need for chit-chat.”

Finally, her frosty blue eyes flick up to meet yours, one brow raising slightly in question. “Now,” she continues with a lazy wave of her claw, “what’s broken this time? Hopefully nothing that requires too much effort.” Her tone is dry, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in her gaze, as if she’s already anticipating some sort of ridiculous story behind your visit.