High above the silent mountain range, where even the wind did not dare to linger, two figures stood within a frozen tear in space, and the world below remained calm, undisturbed.
But that calm was a lie as the silver pentagram on the Myth of Oracle's mask rotated slowly, emitting faint pulses of light as countless unseen threads of unknown probability extended outward only to collapse, one after another.
For the first time in a long while, her ability met a wall, and she couldn't help but look at her companion, who had been staying silent all this time.
But she knew, unlike her, he was probably seeing something and couldn't hide her curiosity as her voice broke the silence, low and controlled, "What are you seeing?"
Beside her, the Myth of Reverend tilted his head slightly as his serpent-like pupils shimmered faintly, the thin rings around them revolving slowly, like orbiting halos responding to something unseen.
