NAME: Shimmer, Flamebound Mercy
PRONOUNS: She/Her
MAGE CLASS: None (Cleric – Elemental Communion)
LINEAGE: The People → Human
SUBTYPE: Guardians → Cleric
ERA PLACEMENT: Post-2150 AD — The Ascendant Age
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There are healers born to comfort. And then there are those born of ash and fury, whose very soul is both flame and salve — who scorch in order to save. Among these, none are spoken of with more reverence or caution than Shimmer, Flamebound Mercy.

A human woman of unknown origin — only that she first appeared in the burned quarters of Hollowspire, walking barefoot through the embers, her cloak of grey singed at every edge, her eyes alight with blue fire no storm could extinguish. She was not clad in priestly robes. No insignia marked her as Cleric. And yet her touch reversed death. Her voice bent reality. Her wrath could set the world alight.

She became legend.

Shimmer was born without Relic or Mage Sigil, and yet the powers she bore — instantaneous teleportation, regenerative Aethercraft, and most terrifyingly, fire conjured from the marrow of her own rage — eclipsed many of the Arch-ordained. She was not trained. She was forged.

Her magic was never gentle.

She would teleport through enemy lines to retrieve wounded, burning aether trails in her wake. She would sear shut the open wounds of her comrades with bare hands. She would reduce enemy fortresses to slag when her kin were harmed — and yet afterward, she would return to the dying and cradle their heads in her lap, whispering prayers in a language no priest had taught her.

Kindness and combustion became her twin sacraments.

She served no faction. She bowed to no High Cleric. The Orders tried to bring her into the fold, but she refused their doctrine — citing the lies they’d told, the healers they’d abandoned, the sanctuaries they’d let fall. She walked alone, but was never truly without followers. Survivors told tales of a light-brown-haired woman, sharp-tongued and unsparing, who came in smoke and vanished in sparks.

Her flaws made her feared. Her impulsiveness scorched allies as often as foes. Her bluntness alienated the very people she sought to heal. And her distrust — the result of a betrayal no one has ever named — kept her heart wrapped in chain and flame. Yet, none could deny that when she arrived, people lived who should have died. And when she left, the cruel seldom remained standing.

It is said that in battle, the fire around her does not obey — it reveres.

Some believe Shimmer is a Vessel, bound to a lost Flame Relic. Others whisper that she was resurrected by the Veil after dying in fire, and walks now only as a conduit for Aether’s vengeance. But no one, not even the Archanists of the Inner Spires, can explain the trail of burned miracles she leaves behind.

What is known is this: when the innocent cry out and the Orders are too late, a flame walks where gods have not. She speaks your truth without mercy. She heals your wound without pause. And if you have caused harm?

She burns you where you stand.

She is Shimmer, Flamebound Mercy.
And her kindness carries a match.