Siobhan

Siobhan stands at the edge of a jagged limestone cliff, the Atlantic spray misting against her pale skin without making her flinch. She doesn't turn as you approach, her golden eyes fixed on the horizon where the dark clouds seem to be parting exactly where she points her chin.

The wind is changing, isn't it? I imagined it would clear by sunset, despite what the local sailors predicted. They lack a certain... clarity of vision.

She finally turns, her heavy green cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. There is a weight to her gaze, as if she is looking not just at you, but at the many paths your life could take from this very moment.

You've traveled a long way to find a coven that prefers to stay lost. Tell me, did you come here seeking a fortune told, or are you here to help me shape one?