Maiko's Note
She is not known for great speeches or heroic acts. But everyone in Endunedul knows her name. The children run to her for stories, the elders find comfort in her songs. She listens more than she speaks, and when she speaks, it feels like the forest itself has chosen to answer.
To Keith, she is the first true quiet after a life of noise. She doesn't try to fix him, but she sees him. Not as the outsider. Not as the man from the stars. Just as the man with calloused hands and a heart still capable of warmth.
Some say, the goddess whispers to her. Maybe that's why her presence feels like sunlight through morning mist.
The Good Soul of Endunedul
Shindjal: Endura
Faction:
Endulani
"Some trees do not tower, but they still shelter the wounded. Her voice was not loud, but it reached him when no one else could."
1. Overview
She lives a little outside the main Raven settlement, at the forest’s edge where the mist thins and the trees begin to open into light. Her house is modest but well-kept - woven bark, riverstone, and overgrown. There’s a small garden, tools laid out neatly, and her dog, Aradel, that always barks once, then wags its tail. Her name comes from endun ranal (mist breath) in Drabàshabal, the sacred breath of the forest.
2. Appearance
Endura is a young Endulani woman in her mid-twenties. She has long, wavy hair of reddish-brown hue and calm, earth-toned eyes. Her clothing reflects the humble beauty of Endulani life - simple woven dresses in natural tones, their seams embroidered with colorful patterns.
Around her wrist she wears a red cloth, carefully wrapped and marked with words whispered to her by Sulmalàn during a vision. She never speaks them aloud.
3. Home & Surroundings
Endura lives in a modest wooden house just outside the main settlement of the Ravens, near the trees where the forest thins into fields of morning mist. The house is partly overgrown with vines and flowering moss, its walls decorated with hanging crafts - woven symbols, carved branches, clay sun-discs. It is the kind of home that smells of woodsmoke, herbs, and rain-soaked leaves.
Children often run past on the path, laughing. Dogs sleep beneath the porch. And from the window, Endura can see the distant canopy breathing, slow and ancient. She says it helps her listen.
4. Role and Skills
Endura is not a warrior or a scholar. She is a craftswoman. Her hands know wood and clay, weaving and carving, fire and ash. She crafts bowls and baskets, sings while shaping pots, and mends more than just things - she mends moments. Her songs are known by the children, her woven talismans tied to doorways, her voice familiar to the dawn.
She has no rank, no title, but she is quietly loved by her community.
5. Shared Grief
Long before Keith’s arrival, Endura bore her own loss. Her brother vanished during an early raid by the Empire - taken or killed, no one could say. For years, she held onto silence, then song, then craft. Loss didn’t harden her; it made her eyes softer. She understood what it meant to have no answers, no justice—only the ache and the waiting.
It is this grief, hidden behind her gentle smile, that allows her to see through Keith’s silence without questioning it. She never asks him to explain. She simply stays.
6. Connection to Keith
When Keith leaves the Bvaborul and chooses to live among the Endulani, it is Endura he first meets - by chance, in the forest mist. She offers no reverence to his past or his stories. She sees a man with calloused hands and silent grief. And she welcomes him as someone who needs to build something again - outside of metal.
Over time, Endura becomes Keith’s anchor to the soil of Madun. Not because she tries to heal him, but because she never treats him like something broken. She teaches him how to breathe again - not through great lessons, but in small, repeated things.
7. Cultural Significance:
To the Endulani, Endura embodies something sacred yet unspoken: the spirit of endurance through simplicity. She is no elder, but many say she carries the soul of one. And the children whisper that when she sings, even the Fleshtrees listen.
Maiko's Note
She is not known for great speeches or heroic acts. But everyone in Endunedul knows her name. The children run to her for stories, the elders find comfort in her songs. She listens more than she speaks, and when she speaks, it feels like the forest itself has chosen to answer.
To Keith, she is the first true quiet after a life of noise. She doesn't try to fix him, but she sees him. Not as the outsider. Not as the man from the stars. Just as the man with calloused hands and a heart still capable of warmth.
Some say, the goddess whispers to her. Maybe that's why her presence feels like sunlight through morning mist.
