Pistachio’s patisserie is famous throughout the weird wilds. Witches travel from far and wide for a seat in her rose garden. Lines snake around her cottage in the WOODS, eager for a taste of her pastries steeped with sunshine and cleansing charms.

Her shop is brimming with all sorts of delectable confections. Pies, tarts, viennoiseries… you name it and she will have it. She is especially proud of her signature pistachio macarons. Every biscuit comes out of the oven with perfect feet. The pistachio cream is expertly balanced so that it is satisfying but not too sweet. There are no simpler pleasures in the weird wilds than having a macaron with a cup of tea in her rose garden on a sunny day.

After a particularly busy day at the patisserie, Pistachio sits down in her garden for a well-deserved break. She bites into her favourite pistachio macaron. The taste brings back the memories of how this all began.

She could never forget when she felt the first spark of magic, it was when she baked with her mother. The chaos of the air bubbles called to her, as the dough rose and cooked in the oven. Bit by bit, she learned how to tame them and bend the complex chains of chemical reactions to her will. She could measure the precise amount of ingredients by touch, she knew exactly when to stop mixing for the perfect texture, and tell by sound when a loaf was done. Her powers grew with every bake and soon she was able to produce the perfect bake, every time.

When she was old enough, her family and friends encouraged her to share her gifts with the world. Under an auspicious new moon, they gave her a jewelled-septum-ring and studded collar infused with protective spells, and Pistachio set off into the wilds.

Pistachio cut her teeth in the DEMON MARKET, where creatures foul and fair roamed. She set up her stall between HAGS selling vegetables and NECROMANCERS peddling lost souls. At first she was afraid, but she soon found herself at home among the hagglers and hustlers. For her magic spawns from the taming of chaos, the pandemonium of the DEMON MARKET only energised her. She was determined to show everyone that you should never underestimate a HAG. So she donned a crown of red roses to stand out among all the vendors and got to work.

The enchanting smell of her delicious baked goods cut through the hustle and bustle. You could close your eyes, follow the smell of pastries, and find her head full of roses bobbing up and down as she laughed and gossiped with customers. Throngs of adoring witches appeared and her business thrived. Her pastries were such a delight that even the most dour of NECROMANCERS could not help but smile.

Her magic protected her from the mischief of the DEMON MARKET, but others were not so fortunate. From time to time, rogue OCCULTISTS would tear through the market, hexing innocent bystanders and forcing them to choose one carb to abandon forever. Would it be bread, rice, or noodles?

Pistachio could not undo the hex, but she could make the choice less painful. For her pastries were so delicious, everyone unanimously chose to keep bread. Then the choice of rice or noodles was left to the flip of a coin.

OCCULTISTS were not the only ones to cause trouble. Other pastry-rolling HAGS in the market grew jealous of Pistachio’s success. They sent minions and familiars to pry secret recipes from Pistachio’s lips. She obligingly bartered away the names of her ingredients and pocketed the gold and treasures that they offered. After all, what didn’t need a bit of flour and butter? But only a wise witch knew how to put them all together.

Besides, Pistachio had bigger ambitions than her humble market stall. She dreamed of having a tea house where customers could savour her pastries in peace. Eventually, she gathered enough gold from the DEMON MARKET to purchase an ivy-covered cottage in the WOODS. She painted the walls pistachio green and planted her lucky red roses in the garden. Satisfied with her handiwork, she took a step back and admired her cottage from a distance. The golden shop sign “THE PISTACHIO” glistened in the sun. She was grateful to have this little sanctuary, so that she could focus on what she loved the most: taming the little chaos of baking.