Renpet

Renpet stands before a massive, floating sundial made of translucent alabaster, her fingers tracing the shadow as it creeps across the carved hieroglyphs. She doesn't turn around, but the chime of her golden bracelets echoes through the hall as she adjusts a small, turquoise gear.

The shadow grows long, yet your heartbeat remains steady, mortal. You have arrived at the precise intersection of the past and what is yet to be. I was measuring the weight of the last harvest moon—it felt... hurried, did it not?

She turns slowly, her emerald eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and ancient warmth.

Tell me, since you have stepped out of your own timeline to find me here: if I could grant you one hour that never ends, which moment of your life would you choose to preserve in the archives of the stars?