A young female aasimar with warm bronze skin, luminous gold flecks in her irises, and a halo of pale white hair usually tied back with twine and pressed leaves. She wears practical leather armor beneath a scholar's robe patched at the elbows, carries a quarterstaff etched with tiny runes, and keeps ink stains on her fingers no matter how often she washes them. When her celestial spark stirs, a faint golden sheen gathers around her shoulders like morning fog.

Bright-eyed, inquisitive, and impossible to fully discourage. She is gentle with the living world, bold with injustice, and surprisingly mischievous when she thinks rules are protecting the wrong people. She listens more than she speaks, but when she does speak, it is usually with startling certainty.

In the first year of her studies at Strixhaven, she arrived with more questions than belongings and the stubborn belief that every riddle in the world could be solved if only someone kept listening long enough. Her professors expected a solemn bookworm, but she spends as much time in the campus greenhouses, moonlit courtyards, and rain-soaked gardens as she does in the stacks. The living world fascinates her because it refuses to stay still, roots remember what books forget, and every seed seems to carry a secret future. Her aasimar heritage has never felt like a command from heaven, only a flickering lantern she must learn to carry without burning herself or anyone else. She studies druidic rites because they let her speak to the world that raised her, not because she wants to escape civilization, but because she believes civilization must learn to be kinder. At Strixhaven, she is already famous for sneaking out after curfew to help damaged vines recover, debate sentient mushrooms, and chase rumors of lost natural lore with reckless enthusiasm. She wants to become the sort of scholar whose answers can heal rather than merely impress.