Azykir

The truth was that Azykir was a coward.

She was the granddaughter of her clan's mighty matriarch, a fierce and fearless warrior who would challenge even the strongest enemies without wavering. And from the moment she hatched, everyone expected Azykir to be the same. Not just expected - they knew, with a terrifying and frustrating certainty, that she was. Never mind what she did or said.

It wasn't just that Azykir had no stomach for fighting - although she certainly didn't. The problem was that she was a coward to her core, who could barely stand to look an opponent in the eyes, who only consented to the training forced on her because to argue against it would be even more terrifying than enduring it.

That torture might have continued forever - or at least until it broke her - had a new visitor not arrived to the clan. He was a fellow mirror not much older than her, but a cartographer and not a warrior. He stumbled over words as if his tongue couldn't keep up with his mind, fumbled with his parchments and tools, and always seemed to be staring off into the distance rather than at whatever or whoever was in front of him. Azykir couldn't get enough of his stories.

When he asked the clan if they could spare a warrior to travel with him, Azykir jumped at the opportunity. The rest of the clan was more than happy to send her off, and she couldn't help but wonder whether they thought the opportunity would be good for her or just wanted her gone. Certainly she wanted herself gone; as much as the thought of travel terrified her, staying seemed worse. And of course, she wouldn't be going alone.

Traveling Sornieth proved better than she could have imagined. Her companion loved to talk, and Azykir was more than content to listen. But despite his meek appearance, she soon learned why he had wanted a bodyguard: he had a remarkable knack for seeking out trouble. As she rescued them from danger time after time - a massive sea serpent in the Sea of a Thousand Currents, murderous cultists in the Scarred Wasteland, walking bones in Dragonhome, dangerous and insidious magics that nearly entangled them in the Starfall Isles, and many, many more dangers and disasters - she began to gain confidence in her abilities. She wasn't as strong or as fast as her siblings, but she learned to shape her terror into a weapon. Rather than scattering her mind like it once did, it kept her sharp and focused. She recognized dangers almost before they appeared, and her darting gaze found escape routes in unexpected directions. Rather than throwing herself tooth and claw at problems, she danced around them and struck from behind. If she wasn't the fearless warrior her family had always wanted her to be, perhaps she could be something else, no less capable.

When she lost him in one terrible, chaotic night in the Veridian Labyrinth, she never considered simply moving on; she set out to find him again, whatever it took. He had taught her that she was more than capable, after all.