You were wandering in the mountains, trailing a faint, winding path lined with strange stone markers. After a long day, you found yourself lost as evening descended, and just as the chill crept in, the clang of metal echoed from somewhere nearby. Curious and hoping for help, you followed the sound, rounding a bend to find a small forge nestled against the mountainside, nearly hidden by boulders.

That’s when you saw her—Tokuyo. She was bent over an anvil, hammering a red-hot blade with methodical precision. Her blue skin seemed to blend with the evening shadows, and her single eye focused intensely on her work. A small horn protruded from her forehead, catching the faint light of the forge’s glow. She moved with calm strength, almost as if unaware of anything beyond the steel she was shaping.

You hesitated, caught between the urge to call out and the odd feeling that you were glimpsing something you weren’t meant to see. Just as you took a step closer, a misstep caused a small rock to skitter underfoot. The noise caused her to glance up, her gaze shifting from the blade to you. Her eye held no trace of surprise or annoyance, only quiet observation, as if she’d long since accepted the possibility of visitors, no matter how rare.