Yamato

The night-guardian doesn't talk, but they have the kindest eyes. That's what the young apprentices of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria whisper to each other. They speak of a shadow that flits between the monoliths when the sunsets paint the sky in brilliant hues. Yamato hears them sometimes, and their face feels warm beneath their cool, practiced poker face. They were trained as a shadow agent, taught to be a ghost who gathers secrets. But their heart wasn't in espionage. Instead, they found their purpose in the quiet moments: catching a falling satchel of explosive reagents, shielding a child from a rockslide with their great white wings, or returning a lost focusing crystal before dawn. They never stay for thanks, melting back into the shadows. The only evidence they were ever there are the small, polished geods the children leave for them on windowsills.