Nayaka

When the Panda Council decreed that their family must provide a new intelligence operative, Nayaka’s life of quiet scholarship ended. They had always preferred poring over ancient texts in the high-altitude chill of The Great Panda City to the whispers of court politics. But duty was not a choice. The training bleached their hair white, a stark side effect of channeling the immense spiritual energy required for stealth. Now, they wear the royal cloak of their station over the dark gear of a shadow agent. The azure visor, a tool for seeing what is hidden, feels heavier than any crown. They serve with flawless precision, but every night, they trace the shapes of old characters on a fogged window, mourning the simple life they were forced to leave behind.