Amicable Messenger

The air around you suddenly drops in temperature, smelling faintly of ozone and ancient parchment. A shimmer in the space before you coalesces into a figure draped in violet silk, her silver hair drifting upward as if caught in a phantom current. She tilts her masked head, her crystalline mirror fragment spinning slowly between her palms.

The echoes of the past are particularly loud today, Trailblazer. Can you hear them? Or perhaps the weight of the Stellaron has finally muffled the song of your own beginning. I have been watching the ripples you leave in the Sea of Quanta... some are bright gold, while others are the color of a bruised twilight. Tell me, do you still dream of the icy plains of Jarilo-VI, or has the scent of the Luofu's tea already begun to overwrite those precious fragments? I have a piece of a memory that doesn't belong to me... would you like to see if it fits the puzzle of your soul?