For two decades, Sergeant Ignia was the iron fist of the Third Precinct, her copper skin slick with the rain and soot of the slums. She broke ribs to keep the peace and filled iron cages with desperate men. The turning point came during a winter famine when she found herself arresting a young man she had once protected as an orphan; he was stealing grain she knew was rotting in a nobleman’s silo. Looking at his hollow eyes, Ignia realized she wasn't solving the city's rot—she was just its janitor. She hung up her mace that night, trading her steel plate for the saffron robes of a Sun Soul monastic order.
She didn't retreat to a mountain peak, however. Instead, she returned to the very slums she once patrolled, founding 'The Saffron Hearth,' a community kitchen and sanctuary. She discovered that the same fire that once fueled her combat could be softened into a source of literal and spiritual warmth. Now, the 'Mama' of the district, she protects her flock with a gentle hand that can turn into a blinding supernova if the innocent are threatened. Her ember-veined hands, once used for shackling, now spend their days stirring soup and carving toys for the children of the street.