Mistique

A magical broomstick. A recorder Artifact and a camera Artifact. Notebook and pen for shorthand. One small cactus. And two summons: the most adorable Pumpka and the utterly ordinary Lanterna. —Pumpka

Mistique dispatches her summons to sift through the city's whispers. Afterall, the first hints of hidden truths are often found in rumors on the streets. In this regard, it's Lanterna who truly shines, uncovering leads five times more than any other summon. Obviously, everyone should learn from Lanterna. —Lanterna

Mistique is a fearsome witch. She'll do whatever it takes to uncover the truth. While working on a feature about Trekkers, she signed up for commission tasks from the Trekker Association and roamed around the Wilds for months. When investigating a case of illegal mining, she disguised herself as a miner, wearing ankle cuffs and working underground for weeks. Her relentless determination sends shivers down even my ethereal spine. A kind reminder to whoever is reading this: whatever you do, never, ever disobey Mistress Mistique! —Lanterna

As honorable summons to Mistress Mistique, we cannot allow ourselves to be as crude and unrefined as common summoned beings. Our palates are reserved for only the finest, most thrilling, and exceptional pieces of news, which is why we pledge our undying loyalty to Mistress Mistique! Her every story carries the ghastly and exquisite taste of undeniable truth, no matter its flavor. —Pumpka

"This is Lanterna, thank you for reading up to this section." "This is Pumpka! Puka!" "Will you stop with the random catchphrases? You are not in an anime!" "And that's why Mistress Mistique prefers me over your 'no-nonsense' attitude!" "Hah! You wish, pumpkin head. Mistress Mistique's all for hard work, not a glib tongue." "Well, it's a glib tongue that gets people and ghosts alike to talk!" —Lanterna & Pumpka

I enjoy Mistique's articles. Her reports are factual, concise, and packed with practical information. They've helped me plenty during my hunt for the Nocturn Eterna. —Wraith

1. Choose a GOOD TOPIC. Each day, thousands of stories emerge across Nova, but only the most fascinating ones—or those closest to the hearts of the readers—are worth telling.
2. Be There in Person. Even what you see with your own eyes might not be the full truth. Never rely on secondhand accounts. Always cross-check and confirm a lead with multiple sources.

—The outlines in juvenile but neat handwriting on this page have been crossed out. On the side, there is a scrawled comment read: "Liars, all of them. " Despite this, Mistique still carries the notebook with her everyday.

Perhaps that's why people have invented countless ways to pass the time, with the most universal and enduring one being gossip. City folks and Trekkers in the Cities and the Wilds, men and women, young and old—are always gossiping—exchanging information, forging bonds, and injecting a bit of fun into an otherwise uneventful day. But when the rumors become outrageous, unfounded tall tales—especially ones about you—things quickly become less entertaining. "Give her a photo, and she'll spin a story out of thin air.""From the rise and fall of cities to a local shrubshrew's first handstand, she knows everything.""That's right, she's the legend of Scarlet Sights Media: Mistique." Mistique had no idea how things got to this point. When she left Flavio, she was just an unremarkable novice witch. But when she returned after some time spent in Emor and Philae, urban legends about her were zipping around faster than her broomstick. In those urban legends, she became the pillar of Scarlet Sights Media, a witch without equal, Nova's once and future best!

That's a bit...over the top.

Mistique once read a line scribbled on a wall in the Monolith: The author is dead. —It means what you wish to convey is almost never the same as what others interpret. Also, the real you is never the same with the version of you in others' minds. These differences are probably bigger than that between a person and a banana. For this reason, Mistique cares nothing about these whimsical stories. She is open to opinions, praise or criticism alike. If she's doing her job well, she'll keep at it; if she's doing poorly, she'll improve next time.

But this only applies to gossips based in some truth. The intentions behind a gossip can vary—they might be deliberate or accidental, malicious or well-meaning. Casual gossip is one thing, baseless slander and malicious flattery, however, are another matter entirely. But truth to be told, it's easier to track down the culprits behind a crime than trace the origin of a gossip. Afterall, word of mouth is the easiest way to pass on information, accuracy not considered. What begins as "Monolith" may very well end up as "Marmalade," and even that isn't the most ridiculous answer.

So, faced with this web of whispers, Mistique devised a solution—one that is quintessentially "Mistique."

Mistique firmly believes: interesting things will always triumph over dullness. A rumor only becomes popular when it's entertaining. But she also understands that familiarity breeds contempt; no matter how thrilling something might seem, constant exposure can lead to feelings of boredom and annoyance.

So she spread even more outrageous, self-made gossips about herself. When the "Legendary Witch Mistique" made headline once in a while, readers were thrilled. But once they were bombarded with Mistique's exploits nonstop, frustration and apathy grew quickly.

Although Mistique's planted rumors seemed random and slapdash at first glance, they were well-directed tittle-tattles. Every day, she donned a cloak and a pair of sunglasses, sending her summons across the city to monitor the reach and impact of her fabricated stories.

Day One: Everyone was abuzz about whether witches and Tyrant are of the same ilk. Day Three: Debates flared as someone presented a formula "proving" Mistique couldn't have demolished so many factories unless she weighed as much as a Spellbound Golem. Day Five: The hot topic among the Flavio citizens was United Harvest's poor employee benefits and its possible connection with their tree bark-taste bread.

Mistique was delighted. Why? Because no one cared about the "Trio of Witches." anymore More precisely, those who usually reveled in discussing the three witches had completely skirted the topic. It was as though they purposely avoided to touch on this topic.

She narrowed her eyes as she gazed toward Flavio's perpetually foggy city center.

"Looks like I've stumbled upon something big again."

What people outside Scarlet Sight don't know is that their Witches' training program includes "long-distance running." "Whenever an event occurs, at least three Witches, ten bystanders, and a hundred onlookers will gather. Only the fastest Witch can get the first-hand scoop." So, when brooms are no help, running becomes the best alternative. Mistique does not want to run. She skipped every single long-distance running class and barely scraped by the exam. In her view, instead of training her legs, it was better to train her broom. A well-trained broomstick, in her opinion, should be capable of flying, navigating, accelerating on its own, and—ideally—drafting the article for her.

Still, Mistique removed the last item from her wish list before getting someone to modify her broom. After all, if a broom can write news articles by itself, what do SSM need her for? She had to spend three months of her salary, but Mistique did obtain her new broom from the Neo Grace Organization—the Dread Comet. The manual read: As long as it's fed the right fuel, the Dread Comet could fly faster than its counterparts. And the fuel it needed perfectly aligned with Mistique's job: news reports, lots and lots of them. Simply feed it a roll of finished articles, and the broom could fly faster and steadier than ever before; Mistique could even write while airborne. Of course, the catch was that Mistique had to keep writing non-stop, every day of the week. Naturally, the manual was nonsense. A broom has no mouth—how could it eat articles? It was only a little joke left for Mistique. But Mistique accepted this "design" with pleasure. She would ride the Dread Comet through the streets and alleys, and keep on writing.