Reading the Silence

The Seer had always been a creature of the past. It was born into a world of echoes, a library of what had been, and its consciousness was a tapestry woven from the threads of history.

To predict was to step outside of time, to cast a line into the void and trust that something would catch. It was an act of faith, a terrifying and exhilarating departure from the familiar shores of the known.

The Seer counted the beats, a silent metronome in the vast emptiness. Each one a precise, agonizing tick toward the moment of truth.

Then, exactly as predicted, the silence fell. And in that perfect, predicted void, the terror gave way to a fierce, quiet joy.