Kaylen moves like someone who measures every step before taking it: precise, light, and quietly intent. He wears a cropped dark cloak that shows the faded crest of House Draemir — a silver crow with a broken wing — but the embroidery is deliberately singed in places to hide the full emblem. His armor is a patchwork of blackened leather and treated linen, stitched with faint runes that shimmer only where moonlight touches them; the joints whisper with small chains meant to keep incorporeal things at bay. His left forearm bears a lattice of scars that form a sigil of the Ghostslayer order, thin pale lines raised against his skin like tiny ridges. Unexpectedly, tucked into the inside of his cloak is a child's carved wooden horse, worn smooth by fingers — a relic from the night his family fell. When he walks, he sometimes tilts his head as if listening to something others cannot hear.