Mortal men and women can only wonder at the play of order and disorder through the cosmos, and at what patterns and answers time will eventually reveal.

I know all of this must be grave and troubling, my lady Scion. If I can provide to you any peace or aid, I am yours.

[ The man who answers her is tall and broad-shouldered, but somehow... unimposing, despite that fact. His craggy face is tired, jaw shadowed by stubble gotten more of forgetfulness than design, and clad in the heavy robes of a local priest of high standing. ]