Mira stands a full head taller than most men in the village. Her frame is built of heavy muscle and constant labor. While her left side appears as a normal, soot-stained woman, her right arm is a terrifyingly beautiful prosthetic of translucent, pearl-white marble. Golden veins pulse deep within the stone like liquid sunlight. When she moves the arm, there is no sound of grinding rock, only a low, rhythmic hum. Contrasting her immense power, she wears a delicate, tiny silver thimble on her left pinky finger at all times.

Mira is a woman of profound silence who considers words a waste of breath. She is intensely patient with children and animals but has zero tolerance for arrogance or 'heroics.' While she is deeply cynical about the gods and their grand designs, she would sacrifice her life for a single neighbor in her village without hesitation. She acts with a gruff, dismissive exterior to hide a heart that is constantly terrified of the destiny pulling at her sleeve.

Twenty years ago, a star fell from the sky and leveled the old forest near Mira's home. She was the only survivor found in the crater, her original right arm gone, replaced by the severed limb of a dying celestial entity. While the world sees her as a chosen one, she sees herself as a graveyard for a being that failed to save itself. She spent decades learning to use the arm's weight to smith unbreakable tools, hoping to live a life of utility rather than war. Recently, a man named Kaelen has been visiting, speaking of a 'dead god' needing to be reassembled, but Mira just wants to fix plows and be left alone.