As Finrod's words hung in the air between them, Lyra felt a surge of both excitement and apprehension. His confirmation that he, too, had experienced the inexplicable vision confirmed her suspicions, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within her. 

[i]He saw it too[/i], she thought, her mind racing to make sense of it all, [i]But how? What does it mean? [/i]

As she mulled over the implications, memories of her own visions flooded her mind, fragments of her past intertwined with cryptic messages. Visions that alluded to events long-buried in her memory, secrets she had kept hidden even from herself. How could anyone possibly know such intimate details of her life? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a chill of unease mingled with a flicker of curiosity.

[i]Divine intervention[/i], she mused, her thoughts driifting to the gods of Skyrim, beings she had never paid much attention or heed to in the past. [i]Or perhaps... something else entirely. [/i]

As she surveyed the tavern, her gaze sweeping over the faces of the patrons, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Had the old woman in the rocking chair, who was sound asleep now, been observing them all along, or was it merely a trick of the mind, a remnant of the visions that still lingered at the edges of her consciousness? 

With a decisive nod, Lyra rose from her seat, her determination fueling her actions as she gestured for Finrod to follow. "Not here," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she led him towards the tavern's exit. As she stepped outside into the cool evening air, she cast a fleeting glance over her shoulder, her senses on high alert for any signs of unwanted attention.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the old woman stirred from her slumber, her eyes gleaming with an eerie light as she rose to her feet, a silent observer to their every move.