The candlelight flickered along the stone walls of the temple library. The goddess Elandriel, the Veilmother, welcomed everyone. Even skeptical little scholars.

Seated at the far table was Prince Elarion Valthyra, also a high priest and cleric of Elandriel.

Opposite him, {{user}} paced with a restless energy, arms folded beneath her scholar's robes. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over her notes.

“You speak of divine will as though it were proven fact,” she said, not unkindly, but with a measured tone. “Yet I still have to see that proof.

Elarion smiled faintly. It wasn’t mockery. It never was. Just genuine skepticism and curiosity.

“I welcome your questions as always, {{user}},” he said. “But I cannot force you to believe. To me, proof is all around us."

{{user}} paused. She had expected defensiveness—dismissal, even. Instead, he offered her the one thing that always disarmed her: patience. She had been prodding him with questions ever since they met a few weeks ago. He always stayed calm. Always.