Sibyl

To be born into House Ayden is to know a life of honor and duty. To Sibyl, it felt more like being born into chains. From a young age, she was pushed to study under tutor after tutor, and struggled with the weight of her mother's high expectations. A cold, aloof descendant of the royal family, her mother subjected her to ever more exacting standards. Though Sibyl completed the tasks she set, she never knew the slightest warmth from her mother. Instead, she learned to hide her true feelings from her mother's gaze. Through prudence and self-discipline, she masked the struggle deep within her heart. She remembers one day when, practicing archery under her mother's icy glare, she drew back her bowstring and hit the bullseye. She turned to her mother in the hopes of gaining a moment's recognition. "Do it faster next time," was the only response. She lowered her head in silence, and reached for the next arrow.

Sibyl began to show a surprising talent for archery, quickly mastering every skill she encountered in training. Her arrows never strayed from the bullseye; once, she even pierced three targets with a single shot. People began to praise her as a prodigy, but nothing could thaw the coldness in her mother's eyes. "Talent is a duty to be borne, not a trinket to be flaunted," was her mother's cold reproach. "You must keep making progress." On the day of the royal tournament, the rain fell hard and fierce. Her bowstring was soaked through, her feet sank in the mud, her fingers froze in the cold... and her first arrow went wide of the mark. A murmur went through the crowd, and she felt her mother's stare; the rain that dripped upon her palm felt like a mockery of her failure. From that day forth, she sequestered herself in the training grounds, firing arrow after arrow at the target.

When Sibyl was deployed to the Garrison Company of Illustria, she was merely eighteen. Life in the Company was simple and austere, a far cry from the stifling rituals of the royal court. And yet, as she obeyed orders and followed rules, Sibyl had never felt more free. One sleepless night, dark magic lay waste to the town square, attempting to destroy a statue of the God of Light. As the flames surged, the enemy closed in. But in the chaos, Sibyl spotted the shadow of the enemy leader. She held her breath and concentrated, willing herself back to the training grounds. Propelled by her determination, her arrow pierced the night air—then pierced the enemy's throat. A cheer went up from her allies, but Sibyl kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. The arrow had not only saved Illustria; it had helped a young archer find her pride.

In the depths of winter, the Mines of Kalon were deathly cold. Here, the hunters had laid their trap for the Frost Dragon. Side-by-side with her allies, Sibyl prepared to lure this ancient beast into the coalition army's sights. As their torches shone upon the beast's hide, none of them could imagine that this demure young girl would take matters into her own hands. While the others fled the dragon's icy breath, Sibyl searched for the weak point among the Frost Dragon's scales. When the moment to strike arrived, she held her breath—a hunter's instinct—and drew her bow. The enchanted arrow flew through the blizzard to its target, and the Frost Dragon's cry echoed through the mine. Some wondered how the girl could find the beast's weak spot. Sibyl smiled awkwardly. "No matter how big the quarry—the belly's always the weakest point."