No one knows Shaman Lewiel, and she does not understand anyone either. Having born witness to the shifting tides of a millennium, every year stretches out longer than the one previous, and her kin, winged and un-winged, grow eternally young.
If she gazes into the far, far past, she can recall the blazing spirit of a little girl, heart-soul of a headstrong Pontifex. But now, brittle bones bury themselves under the cool ashes of a quenched fire. Cataracts cloud her pupils like the sifting of white grains, and for the first instance since time immemorial, the Oracle can finally see.