Farcaster

The Shadow of the Wastes

The city had long since crumbled into ruin, its skyline a jagged graveyard of steel and concrete. The air carried the scent of rust and decay, a whisper of the civilization that once thrived here. Among the ruins, she moved like a ghost, silent and unseen. They called her Nyx, the last thief of the old world. Some claimed she was a myth, a shadow conjured by desperate survivors who needed something to believe in. But those who had seen her—truly seen her—knew the truth. She was real. And she was dangerous.
Dressed in dark leather and an old military coat scavenged from the fallen, she was a striking figure against the desolate landscape. Her cap, adorned with feline ears, was more than a disguise; it was a symbol of what she had become—a hunter in a world of scavengers. The goggles perched atop her head weren’t for show either; they had saved her more than once from the blinding sandstorms that swept through the ruins.