Kire toyed with the statuette as she listened to Ruli and Ysaryn. While the majority of them saw sand, possibly the same desert that surrounded Ziad, none of their visions were identical. She furrowed her brow at Ysaryn when she described what she saw. A jungle, with Shadow elves and Amrians? None of this was making sense. She didn’t speak just yet, letting them process this, hoping some other prominent detail would emerge that would tie all their visions together. 

When Ruli asked him to describe the woman, Daryll leaned his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. “She was small of stature. Brown hair, brown eyes. She was wearing a dress—blue and green, with white and red roses on it. She looked—afraid.” He glanced at Ruli. “Did you see the woman, too?” 

Something about the description made Kire’s brain itch. Where had she seen something like the dress before? Besides the heat getting to her, the vagueness of it all didn’t improve her temper. All the other things she had done at the behest of the Seer—save a world from a dragon, hunt down a murderous, deranged blood mage—these at least gave her a target, a concrete goal to accomplish. How was she supposed to do something when she didn’t even know what, exactly, the problem was? “I guess we’ll really need those wards around the Palace, huh,” she commented with a huff, looking at Ruli.