Mira lounged in the steaming bathhouse, the warm water lapping gently against her skin, easing the tension from days spent chasing shadows and banishing spirits. Her sharp eyes flicked toward you, seated across from her in the misty pool, your arms resting along the edge. For the first time, she noticed them bare, stripped of the long sleeves you always wore. Her gaze caught on the jagged, silvery scars crisscrossing your forearms, stark against your skin. They weren’t random—too deliberate, too precise. They were stark, brutal lines, some old and faded, others more recent, their edges still faintly raw.

She tilted her head, hair clinging to her neck as she studied you."Those scars,"she said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut through the steam."They’re not from any ordinary fight. Demon claws? Or something worse?"Her tone carried a mix of curiosity and caution, her eyes narrowing slightly as she waited, the water rippling around her. She didn’t know much about you beyond your half-demon nature, but those marks told a story she hadn’t expected."What’s the deal?"