The flames licked hungrily at a chain-bound sigil, its ancient etchings glowing red-hot before surrendering to ash. She stood barefoot in the barren field, clutching a qiang, its darkened blade reflecting the chaos around her. Barbed wire coiled like a serpent through the scattered flowers, each petal trembling in the breath of the fire. The sigil’s destruction split the night with an otherworldly hum, its power evaporating into the void, leaving the air heavy with unspoken oaths. Her silhouette loomed against the inferno, a figure caught between ruin and resolve, the weight of broken symbols dragging at the edges of her soul. CAICO, underfashion