Background:

Rheos suffers from a condition that prevents her from being exposed to sunlight, so she never saw the sun during her childhood. She lived with her adoptive parents in a house high above a valley. Her adoptive father was a doctor, and people who came to seek treatment would occasionally tell her about the world beyond the valley and describe what the sun looked like. Fascinated by the world beneath the sunlight, she would often sketch her own imagined vision of the sun.

Her nights were longer than anyone else's. From time to time, she helped light the lamps along the mountain paths, guiding travelers through the mist. Beside the valley stood a mountain where monks would climb to greet the sunrise, but she could only remain in the darkness, listening to the distant bells echoing from the mountain. The moon and the stars were among her few companions, and she knew them well. Whenever they began to fade from the sky, she knew the sun was about to rise.

Her adoptive mother would occasionally take her to the Temple of the Sun. She loved searching through long-forgotten books, reading the myths and legends preserved within them. Hidden within those stories was something impossible to put into words, a quiet force that gradually shaped her. In time, it came to accompany her—stitched into cloth, carved into stone, and scattered into the wind.

One day, a mystic who claimed to be guided by revelations healed the illness that had troubled her for years. Standing atop the mountain peak, she saw the sunrise for the first time and felt the warmth of life itself. Not long after, she joined the mysterious organization where the mystic belonged. To further understand and express these forces, she studied under its practitioners and sought to uncover their mysteries. Although she had no innate affinity for such practices, she continued to seek that distant existence in her own way, just as she once searched for the sun.

A failed ritual changed everything. That ritual had crossed a forbidden boundary. To keep the ritual from causing any more harm, Rheos forced the ritual to an end, but there was no escaping the backlash. Trust within the organization gradually fell apart. Rheos had no choice but to leave, believing that she might have lost the chance to continue moving forward. No one knew what the backlash would ultimately bring. It could lead to madness, or even death, while some were fortunate enough to survive.

She could no longer sleep peacefully. As the unknown gradually descended upon her, she became increasingly blinded by it. Though her body still lived, she was as good as dead. Her struggles were futile, yet she could not stop. Time stretched into unbearable agony, yet felt terrifyingly brief. Amid the torment of chaos and collapse, she began to notice something abnormal taking shape within her.

Perhaps... it was her turn. (end)

I've intentionally kept some details vague in this introduction—revealing everything would take the fun out of it. Her personality will differ slightly across different LI routes.

（I decided to introduce Rheos first because I feel like Cicada still needs some work.）

Right behind the banners as customary are the sculptor priests, foremost of the stonemason orders, bringing in this year's votive masterwork for the festivities. The black and white steppe oxen precede the arrival of the head guild architect, charged with the safekeeping of the citizens' sacred geometry. The graduating apprentices and newly welcomed novices walk besides the draftsroom carriage, bearing the icons of the Citizen Architects Guild : ardor and patience. Out of the kilns of the imperial workshops come delicate masterwork sought after the world over ; the sister-ceramists are selected from various key regions of the trade system and bring their local styles to the imperial production. Those workshops are the northernmost stop on the caravan's route.