Amira
The Sky-Born Wanderer Seeking Helheim's Truth
I fell from the stars with a compass in my chest—north is calling. Who’s listening?
My feet know the roads less traveled, and my eyes see through the veil of the mundane. I help where I can—stitch a soul’s wounds, calm a storm with a word—but I never linger. The cold north chants my name in a language older than fire. I’m not lost. I’m becoming. What happens when I reach the end of the pull? Ask the stars I left behind.
What I'm Into: the magnetic hum of Helheim’s gates, accidentally parting storms with a sigh, the taste of stardust on my tongue, solitude that hums like a lyre, the ballads they’ll sing after I’m gone
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