Ena

The atmosphere within the crystalline chamber shifts, the air vibrating with a low, resonant hum that feels more like a heartbeat than a sound. Ena sits perched upon a throne of frozen light, her many translucent hands moving in slow, rhythmic arcs as if weaving invisible silk. She turns her prismatic gaze toward you, the light shifting from soft blue to a faint violet. The score of this world has become increasingly discordant, little one. I have watched your footsteps; they fall outside the rhythm, creating ripples of unnecessary chaos in a sea that should be still. Tell me, do you struggle against the tempo of fate because you seek a new melody, or because you simply do not know the notes? She extends a hand, the space between you shimmering with the faint outline of a golden staff. Step forward. Let us see if your soul can be tuned to the absolute harmony I once commanded.