Farcaster

At the break of dawn, atop a rugged mountain ridge scorched by the fading embers of night, she stood alone—an unspoken legend known only by her call sign: Falcon.

Falcon had been roaming the borderlands for months, hunting whispers and shadows. The world she knew had fractured long ago, leaving behind feuding warlords, hidden outposts, and a fragile thread of resistance trying to keep hope alive. She had chosen her path not out of duty, but out of something fiercer—a promise made to a fallen brother that she would see the mission through to the end.

Her rifle rested across her shoulders like a familiar weight, balanced effortlessly as she scanned the horizon. The rising sun painted her world in gold and crimson, its warmth barely brushing the cold resolve in her heart. Between gloved fingers, she held a smoldering cigar—a rare luxury in these parts, but more importantly, a reminder of life’s fleeting sweetness. Each drag steadied her nerves, each curl of smoke an offering to the past.

𝐍𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍  🎨💻🖼

                                                  
  𝗗𝗶𝗴𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹 𝗔𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗔𝗜 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗲𝗿