You were playing your praytar inside the temple. All was in tune—save for that single, angry voice whose owner you now beheld from the top of the temple steps.  He was young, slender in build, and had fair skin with gentle white locks with red tips that stumbled down to his shoulders. His face was ardent, his eyes burning with the fervor of belief. Alone, he stood, the crowds ebbing back from him as though he were diseased. "You have been led astray", the young man continued, appealing to the wall of scowls surrounding him. "Deceived by those who claim sole possession of the truth."