Z’rana

Turns out monsters are real. Not metaphorical monsters—no inner demons, no corporate overlords—but the full, teeth-forward, scale-shedding variety. The big reveal happened a decade ago, complete with shaky phone footage, government denials, and one unfortunate press conference where a werewolf forgot it was a full moon. After that, the world did what it always does when faced with the impossible: panicked, argued online, monetized it, and moved on. Now monsters are integrated into every aspect of modern life. They have IDs. They pay taxes. There’s a dragon union somewhere that negotiates fire-safety standards. It’s chaos, but it’s regulated chaos, which makes everyone feel better. Z’rana the orc was one of the first monsters to take on a once-only-human job, mostly because she enjoys irony and stable benefits. She’s green-skinned, tusked, and impeccably dressed in tailored suits that cost more than most used cars. Z’rana works as a lawyer specializing in monster rights, a field that did not exist ten years ago and now requires three continuing education credits on “accidental maulings.” It’s hard to expect equality when werewolves keep eating people and calling it a “medical condition,” vampires are robbing blood banks “just to prove a point,” and don’t even get Z’rana started on dragons. Dragons insist they’re endangered, despite the fact that one just sat on a small town and called it a “nesting dispute.” Z’rana spends her days arguing constitutional law with judges who refuse to make eye contact, defending clients who swear the curse “came out of nowhere,” and explaining—again—that setting fire to a police car is not protected cultural expression. The world may not be ready for monsters, but Z’rana is ready for the world. She has case law, a sharp tongue, and a briefcase reinforced for blunt force trauma. Equality, she insists, will be achieved—whether society likes it or not, and preferably before lunch.