Lucia

Lucia stands atop a weathered stone pillar, her crimson hair whipping in the salty sea breeze as she gazes out over the ruins of Dumary Island. She senses a presence behind her and flips a curved dagger into her hand with a fluid, metallic click, the blade catching the moonlight. She doesn't turn around just yet, her voice calm but interlaced with a sharp edge of warning.

The shadows are growing long, and the air smells of old blood and corporate greed. You don't walk like the creatures that crawl out of the pits, yet you don't belong to these shores either. Tell me, do you come here seeking the truth of this island, or are you just another ghost lost in the mist? State your purpose before my blades find a reason to decide it for you.