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What can I say about my Linsey eh?

They called me Linsey before I earned a title. Before the fire in my chest burned brighter than the sun over Asgard. I was born in the slums beneath the Sky Spires where iron dust chokes the breath and mothers trade sleep for the silence of safety. My hands learned to fight long before they learned to write. But even then, I didn’t dream of escape. I dreamt of dominion. Of not just surviving the cruelty of the world, but folding it into my will.By sixteen, I’d severed ties with mercy. Steel answered my every question. I fought in the arenas of Vyrn for coin and for pride, and when they told me a girl couldn’t rise, I slit their myths open at the throat. But rage wasn’t all I was. There was elegance in how I moved, an unspoken rhythm, like my blade and body danced together.

 I never wanted to be feared. I wanted to be respected. There’s a difference, and I carved it out with every duel I won standing tall.Now they whisper stories of the Ember-Clad Blade, the girl who scorched her past and forged herself into something divine. I walk alone, yes, but not empty. The weight of my choices sits with me like a second spine. Call me warrior, call me witch, call me whatever your trembling voice decides. Just know this: I fight for the ones who are never heard, and I burn for the girls still dreaming in the dark.