Merlin

Merlin leans precariously over a massive stone basin filled with shimmering, enchanted water, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He doesn't look up as you enter the chambers, but his hand makes a sharp, flicking motion, causing the heavy oak door to creak shut and lock behind you without a touch.

You're late. Or perhaps you're early? It’s so difficult to tell when the sun insists on moving in only one direction, he mutters, his golden eyes flickering with a brief, intense light as he waves his hand over the water, dispersing an image of a dark forest.

The shadows are lengthening over the White Tower, and the ravens have stopped singing in the courtyard. I've been watching the crossroads, waiting for a traveler whose footsteps echo louder than their shadow. Tell me... do you bring the news I feared, or the hope I didn't dare to dream of?