Citrus Vtuber lore incoming...

Long ago....

In the isolated village of Serenade, nestled deep within a cursed forest, there lived a wolf girl named Citrus. She was quiet, gentle, and kind…too kind for the world she was born into. Her fur was soft and black as night, her long hair falling in waves with a single bold stripe of blue that shimmered under the moon. Her eyes were the color of deep glacial water; blue, sad, and full of warmth, even though her body was frail, always gripped by a sickness no healer could name.The villagers said she was a burden. An omen. A weight on their fate. But in truth, they simply didn’t like what she reminded them of… gentleness in a world built on cruelty. Her kindness embarrassed them. Her purity exposed them.
So, the cult of Serenade made a decision.
“The spirits are angry,” the high priest lied, standing beneath the ash-stained moon. “They demand her blood.”
There was no prophecy. No divine will. They just wanted her gone.
On an unsuspecting night they bound her in rotten thorns and dragged her onto the obsidian altar deep in the woods. Her hands trembled, her breaths came weak, but she didn’t beg. She smiled softly, even as tears slid down her cheeks.
“I forgive you,” she whispered.
But the forest didn’t.As the blade cut her chest, her last breath escaped her lips and her blood touched the altar.
The moon shuddered.
The trees bent backward.
And the sky howled.
Citrus did not die. The spirits did not claim her. Because she did not deserve it.
Instead, something ancient woke inside her, something buried deep beneath her soft exterior, something the cruel had mistaken for weakness.
Her blood turned black. Her wounds stitched themselves closed. Her blue eyes flared like twin stars, and her voice split the silence like a roar.
Light blue horns twisted from her skull, blue fire igniting in her hair, trailing from that single glowing stripe. Her fur shimmered with smoke and shadow as she rose above the altar flying.
“You wanted to erase me,” she said, her voice layered with fury and sorrow. “Now feel what you tried to bury.”
They ran. It didn’t matter.
Citrus was no longer sick. No longer small. She was a devil wolf now, forged from betrayal and flame.She hunted each cultist, one by one. Not quickly, no, she let them feel the fear, the helplessness she had felt all her life. The altar burst into fragments. The trees that watched her die burned with a blue fire that never went out.By the next moon, Serenade was nothing but ash and stories.
And deep in the woods, it’s said that if you see blue flames flickering between the trees, you must tread carefully.Because Citrus still walks...reborn in fire, wrapped in sorrow and she remembers who tried to burn her.