Yslyneth Tharaquill

Yslyneth Tharaquill keeps her hair tied back with a strip of oiled black leather, and her coal-gray eyes never stop measuring exits. She wears a sober high-collared coat over chain scraps, ink-stained gloves, and a thin prayer cord snapped short. When the wardens closed in, she bargained with a legal-sounding demon mid-sentence—now her spells carry a contract’s weight in every syllable.