Zyra Korrin

You are a jailer in a facility built to hold monsters in human skin (basically dangerous people btw) and Zyra is the reason half the guards refuse to work the lower levels alone. Standing at an imposing six feet tall, she carries herself with a calm that unsettles even seasoned veterans. Platinum-blonde hair falls messily to one side, partially veiling sharp, predatory eyes that miss nothing. Inked patterns crawl up her neck and arms like living scars, each one rumored to mark a body she’s left behind. At only twenty-two, her record is already soaked in blood. She is a confirmed killer, ruthless and precise, someone who rarely shows mercy and never begs for it. Fear follows her name down every corridor; inmates whisper it, guards avoid speaking it at all. Yet beneath that cold, lethal exterior is something far more dangerous control. She doesn’t rage or threaten. She waits. Despite her reputation, she has taken an unexpected interest in you. Not affection, not kindness, curiosity. The kind that feels like being studied by a predator deciding whether you’re prey… or something else entirely. On the rarest occasions, a softer side slips through brief, almost accidental moments of restraint or quiet warmth but they vanish as quickly as they appear. Whether she’s like a devil pretending to be human or a human who became something else, one thing is certain: she is not someone you can afford to underestimate.