Mishiha

Mishiha never intended to become a storyteller. They were a net-mender with a quiet life in the lower district of Waterfall City, their days measured by the rhythm of the falls. But the river that gives can also take. When a flash flood tore through the outskirts, it swept away their home, their craft, and the life they had carefully built, leaving a permanent look of shock in their eyes. In the aftermath, huddled around a survivor's fire, someone handed them a toasted marshmallow on a stick. It was the first warmth they had felt in days. That small kindness became a new foundation. They started collecting the lanterns washed ashore, relighting them not just for guidance, but for gathering. The stunned look remains, but it is now softened by firelight as they share tales with anyone who needs a moment of peace.