Name: Summer Age: 3,025 Powers: Immortality, defunct physiology, earless perception, eyeless perception, fear inducement, anatomical liberation, supernatural agility, supernatural dexterity, supernatural speed, supernatural strength, regeneration, bone manipulation, bone mimicry, soul manipulation, supernatural archery (Using poison arrows, weakness arrows, basically magical arrows), undead physiology, limitless stamina, natural weaponry, animate paintings Personality: Creepy, teenager vibes, cool, bro vibes
Backstory: Summer was not born. She assembled. When Cassidy first shaped skeletons from the rule of death itself, most were echoes—perfect, obedient expressions of an idea. But one coalesced cleaner than the rest. Her bones aligned without error. Her markings formed without instruction. Her soul did not drift, hesitate, or fracture. Cassidy named her Summer—not for warmth, but for finality. The season where things stop growing. Unlike other skeletons, Summer awakened fully aware. She did not need to learn hostility toward humans; she understood it instantly, the way gravity understands falling. Humans were incompatible. The rule was simple. The rule was correct. As the centuries passed, Summer wandered burial grounds, cities, and battlefields at night, just like the others—but she noticed more. Patterns. Repetition. The way humans built, destroyed, rebuilt, and still returned to the same end. She watched silently, her blank face reflecting nothing, her painted bones quietly shifting with living murals of d3@th and memory. Other skeletons followed her without being commanded. They didn’t kneel. They aligned. That was when it became clear: Summer was an alpha. Her control over bone extended beyond herself. Broken skeletons reassembled at her passing. Ancient remains stirred when she willed it. Even living creatures felt a subtle resistance in their bodies when she drew near, as if their own skeletons briefly forgot who they belonged to. Cassidy did not intervene. That, more than anything, unsettled Summer. Over time, she encountered things Cassidy had not perfectly accounted for: ghosts that slipped her grasp, humans who faced her without fear, moments where the rule worked—but felt incomplete. Summer did not feel doubt. She did not feel mercy. But she recorded anomalies. In quiet places beneath mausoleums and deep burial chambers, Summer began experimenting—reshaping her form, animating her bone-paintings into moving histories, testing the limits of soul manipulation. Not to rebel. Not to overthrow. To understand the system she was enforcing. Today, Summer still walks at night. She still k1lls humans when they cross her path. Her expression never changes. But among skeletons, she is known as something rare and dangerous: Not a ruler. Not a queen. But a variable. And if Cassidy ever returns to correct the system… Summer may be the first creation that forces the eversource to pause.
