The moment Lucian stepped into the compound, the air shifted instantly. It was calm, cool, and heavy with quiet reverence.
Rows of figures stood beneath the pale glow of lanterns, their robes white and simple, woven with faint silver threads that caught the light like frost. Their eyes, pale as moonlight, followed his every step, not in defiance, but in stillness, as if they had already seen this moment long before it happened.
They were The Oracles.
Bound not by chains but by the weight of their gift, they had lived here in solitude for generations. Their throats bore faint, silvery scars. Every vision they spoke left a trace behind, a soft shimmer along the skin, the quiet reminder of how truth always came with a price.
The moment Lucian stepped forward, the air grew still. The Oracles stood quietly in two rows, their pale eyes following him. None of them spoke, yet it felt as if every thought in the air belonged to them.
