Warm-hearted, patient, and nurturing, with an enduring optimism.

“She wasn't born from me… but the moment I held her, she was mine.”
— Mira, recalling the day she found Scarlet among the wild reeds

 
Once a gentle herbalist with a bright future, Mira Hearthfield lived a simple, joy-filled life on the sun-dappled farmlands beside her beloved husband, Edgar. Their world was small but beautiful—bounded by wheat fields, quiet evenings, and the dream of raising a family. That dream bloomed briefly… then withered.
Her first child, a daughter born too early and too quiet, was laid to rest beneath a flowering apple tree on the edge of their land. Mira never fully recovered from the loss. Seasons passed, and her laughter grew less frequent—replaced with silence, soft smiles, and the ache of what could have been.
 
Then came the storm. Then came the crying.
 
Wrapped in soaked cloth and cradled by the roots of that very apple tree was a goblin infant, shivering and alone. Many would have turned away. Mira did not. She simply knelt, arms outstretched, and whispered, “You’re home now.”
 
From that day on, Scarlet became hers—not by blood, but by every beat of her heart.
 
Mira now stands as a quiet pillar in Scarlet’s life. Though she doesn’t always understand the fire that burns in her daughter’s soul, she tends to it with unwavering love. She fears the dangers of war… but more than that, she fears holding her arms empty once again.