“What are you looking for?” asked the voice. It carried across the air with the casual authority of someone quite accustomed to asking impossible questions. The cleric turned, half expecting an old friend - anything but the young man who now stood there, as if conjured from the mist itself. In an age where matter transmission and cloaking fields could explain most mysteries, this felt… different. Lately, with debates of the heretics echoing through Vidyan society, the cleric had found his own faith in their society wobbling. t. And yet, in the stranger’s eyes, something flickered. A pulse of light, not literal - but something undeniable. Perhaps an answer to why the cleric felt to lost. Saira Thal. The name slid into his mind with uncomfortable ease. He knew the legends, of course. The Oracle. Knew them well enough to dismiss them as metaphors, the kind that pilgrims and romantics clung to when they had nothing else. And yet this moment … this strange, windswept, quietly electric ...