Twig

A young male rock gnome wizard with a haunted background. Twig is small and wiry, with soot-stained fingers, unruly copper hair, and round spectacles patched at the bridge with silver wire. His spellbook is bound in cracked gray leather and secured with a brass clasp shaped like a grinning skull. He keeps a blue candle stub in his pocket; its flame sometimes burns without being lit, casting shadows that move a heartbeat out of time with him.

When Twig was young, an elder told him the tale of the good wolf and the bad wolf: the one you feed grows strong. Twig thought it was only a story, so he pretended to feed the bad wolf. He whispered cruel jokes to it, indulged every spiteful thought, and treated each small act of malice as harmless play. The tale was no tale. Something answered him from the dark places of his mind, growing stronger each time he chose it for amusement. Now spirits gather around Twig, and an evil presence presses against his thoughts, waiting for weakness. He fights to keep it from emerging, knowing that every selfish impulse and reckless spell may give the bad wolf another mouthful.

I don't run from evil. Evil runs from me. I spend money freely and live life to the fullest, knowing that tomorrow I might die.

I talk to spirits that no one else can see.

Twig wants to identify the presence in the mirror and learn why it chose him. He collects accounts of hauntings, broken mirrors, and spells that create living doubles, trading useful magic for every scrap of evidence. He also wants enough power to return to his old workshop without running, even if the thing waiting there is no longer human.

Determination. I’ll stop the spirits that haunt me or die trying.

There’s evil in me, I can feel it. It must never be set free.