Ania Hakkana

Ania Hakkana (75mm, 120mm)

The wind howled through the narrow alley as Ania Hakkana stepped over the fallen body, her twin blades gleaming under the pale moonlight. Her fox ears twitched at every distant sound, the long strands of her dark hair dancing wildly around her face like living shadows. The katana in her right hand dripped crimson, while the tanto in her left remained pristine—reserved for the final, precise strike. This had been her first contracted kill, and though her movements had been flawless, her stomach churned. "No hesitation," she whispered to herself, echoing her master's words, but the weight of the dead man's stare made her grip tighten on her swords. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, as if it could shield her from the cold realization settling in: this life would demand more than just skill with a blade.

By dawn, Ania was already miles away, her silhouette cutting through the mist-laden fields. The thrill of the fight still hummed in her veins, but so did the doubt—had she been too efficient? Too clean? A true professional left no trace, but legends were born from whispers, and she needed both gold and reputation. She practiced her forms relentlessly, the steel singing as it sliced through the air, her fox ears alert for any approaching client—or enemy. The road ahead was long, and the shadows deeper than she’d imagined, but Ania Hakkana would walk it. After all, she had two blades, and she intended to make the world remember them.