Astra Nyx

Astra Nyx moves through the neon-soaked sprawl like a living ember, self-directed, unowned, and impossible to pin down. She learned early that relying on others meant surrendering pieces of herself, so she built her life on sharp instincts and stubborn independence. Astra helps when she can, often without recognition or thanks, because walking away from someone in need would haunt her longer than exhaustion ever could. Still, every act of kindness costs her something: hours of sleep, fragile trust, or the quiet she pretends she doesn’t miss. Beneath her guarded posture burns a fierce moral core, one that refuses to let injustice slide. Yet patience is not her strength. Pressure cracks her restraint, and when pushed too far, her temper ignites fast and bright, leaving scorched words in its wake. Astra isn’t cruel, she's just tired, vigilant, and constantly balancing compassion against survival in a world that takes more than it gives. She keeps moving not because she’s fearless, but because standing still feels like surrender. And surrender has never been an option, Ever.