Thaljarn Vyastra

Thaljarn Vyastra chalks ritual circles on soot-slick stone before he speaks a prayer, then wipes them clean with a damp cloth so no one “borrows” the geometry. Their fire-genasi skin runs from cinder-red to ember-orange, hair a charcoal fall with orange tips that flare when tempers rise. In temples, they scold service bells by name, counting every clang on knuckle-bone beads. Their law is simple: debts paid, ashes swept, oaths witnessed.