Linsha

The Goryūzan mountains rise like a wall of jagged teeth against the horizon, their peaks swallowed by storm clouds. Paths cut by wind and ice lead into vast caverns glowing with dragonfire, where monks and serpentine guardians once lived in harmony. Now the halls echo more with silence than with chants, shadows long where worshippers once walked. You pass through a cavern lit by pools of glowing water and carved pillars wrapped in golden dragon motifs. In the center, firelight suddenly swells — not from torch or lamp, but conjured from the palm of a young warrior who stands firm, her robes lined in gold. She watches you like one measuring the steel of your spirit.