
Sigrika, a student of Startorch Academy and a Resonator of Royan Runes. Determined to live up to others' expectations and become a true Solsworn, she devotes herself fully to every challenge.

A diary dear to Sigrika, filled with the traces of her life and thoughts. In <te href=700021>Bjartr Woods</te>, it held her joy and discoveries. At <te href=851069>Startorch Academy</te>, it holds her doubts and sorrow. Life stretches far beyond the pages of a diary. Growth, too, never happens overnight.

A bird journal Sigrika keeps, though most entries are just blurry silhouettes. The sketches and notes brim with the collector's unfiltered excitement. "Stay still! Don't flash me your tail, Blubbin Puffin! Stay there! Stop moving! Ugh, your tail AGAIN?! Please stay still! Ugh, again?! Blubbin Puffin!" "New species discovered! White bird! New species! White bird! New species! White bird! New species! White bird! New species! White bird!"

A pouch sewn by Sigrika's mother, filled with candies, hairpins, and little trinkets whose purposes are anyone's guess. When Sigrika left home, her mother pulled her into a warm embrace. It left Sigrika with encouragement, love, and the gentlest of tethers.
"I'm back..." The moment Sigrika closed the door, a round Kronapuff that could've been a ball launched itself into her arms, sending her stumbling back two steps. "Hey, Crackle! Did you have fun at home?" she laughed, steadying herself. "You look bigger again. Have you been eating too much? Alright, alright, let go of me! Where's Mother? Wait, don't tell me. My nose already knows." She dashed into the kitchen. The fatigue of the journey melted away the instant she spotted the pot of rich, bubbling Smoked Meat Stew. "You're back?" her mother glanced over. "Look at you, filthy from head to toe. Off chasing birds with your friends again, were you? In a few days, you will receive the <te href=700010>Reactor Drive</te>'s blessing. After that, you'll be considered a grown-up. A Solsworn can't be seen running around like that." "No, no! I was helping Aunt Astrid with her herd. That doesn't count as running around." Her mother reached out and pinched her cheek. Sigrika winced and scrunched up her face. It only made her mother's smile soften. "Alright, alright. Go wash your hands. We'll eat once your father gets home." "Okay!" Sigrika grinned. She washed her hands carefully, then took the plates and utensils from the cupboard and laid them out neatly on the table. When her father returned, their small home welcomed a dinner that wasn't lavish, but was warm enough to fill the room. At the table, Sigrika counted the little gifts her father had brought back—flower crowns, hairpins, clear bits of glass, and a few small blocks whose purpose she couldn't quite guess. As she tucked them away, her mother sighed and began to complain about his buying strange trinkets again. Her father scratched his head, fumbled for an explanation, then, catching Sigrika's eye, seized his chance to change the subject. "So, feeling confident about the coming Trial?" "Of course," Sigrika answered without hesitation. She liked this. Being with her family. Even when her parents nagged and rambled, she never felt annoyed. She knew, deep down, that all of it came from love and their high expectations for her. Her parents wanted her to become an outstanding <te href=700025>Solsworn</te>. They hoped she would use her talent to help others, and more than that, they hoped she would grow into an outstanding person. Sigrika knew how to live up to those expectations. That was why she studied runes every day. Learned something new every day. Even when exhaustion crept into her bones. Still, as the Trial drew closer, she couldn't help but feel nervous. "It's alright," her parents said. "Our little Sigrika will pass with flying colors. After that, you'll be heading to <te href=851069>Startorch Academy</te>. That place has trials of its own waiting for you." "Mhm!" Sigrika nodded, pushing her anxiety out the front door along with the dust of the road. For now, she would just enjoy dinner. After all, the stew really smelled good. "Oh, right, Mother," she added suddenly. "Has Crackle put on weight? I could barely pick it up." "Ask your father." "Papa?" "Haha… I might have... fed it a bit more than a little."