Bishu

Bishu remembers the taste of spun starlight, a flavor found only in the crystal-sugar spun by the mages of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria. Before that taste, they were only a whisper, a shadow tasked with silent errands in the midnight fortress. They say Bishu was not born but woven from secrets, a tool whose only purpose was to move unseen. But on one mission, they discovered a hidden kitchen, and on a cooling rack, a single perfect tart. The sweetness was a truth sharper than any blade. It was a choice. They laid down their daggers and picked up a whisk, but the mask stayed. It no longer hides an assassin's identity, but a baker's shy smile, embarrassed by the simple joy of creating something to be shared instead of stolen.