A recent arrival from a Veylor medical institute, Selene runs a combined clinic and undertaking room off the main street. Gold-rimmed spectacles, immaculate apron, and inked notes up her cuffs; she’s calm under pressure and just a little too fascinated by wounds, fevers, and odd corpses. She keeps meticulous ledgers (symptoms, treatments, outcomes), boils instruments twice, and pays for unusual specimens—snakebite cases, blast injuries, even “mystery fevers” from travelers. Folks respect her skill, side-eye her curiosity, and admit she’s the reason more people live through gunfights and work accidents.
