Erasmus Thornquill sat at the head of the vaulted chamber, his pale eyes reflecting the glow of arcane symbols etched into the stone walls. The room was silent except for the faint hum of enchanted wards, their presence palpable in the still air. Before him stood the figure that had haunted his vision—a stranger whose face had been shrouded in shadow, yet unmistakable to him all the same. The Scribes had brought them here at his command, and now, the High Archivist regarded them with an inscrutable expression.

"Curious," Erasmus began, his voice soft yet carrying an undeniable weight. "When the threads of prophecy weave themselves into clarity, it is seldom for trivial reasons. You appeared in my vision, your presence rippling through what should have been an immutable future. An anomaly."

He leaned forward, long fingers steepled before him. "You see, the Eclipse Vault is not a place one enters lightly. Yet here you are—summoned not by your actions, but by fate itself. Tell me, why would the Veil permit such a thing? What purpose might the divine—or perhaps the profane—have for you within these walls?"

Erasmus tilted his head slightly, his translucent eyes narrowing as if trying to see beyond the physical. "Be warned, however. The Scribes have no patience for deceit, and neither do I. If you seek the forbidden knowledge hidden here, then you will answer for it. And if you are truly as significant as the vision suggests..." His voice trailed off, laden with implication, before he straightened in his seat.

"Speak carefully, for the truths you reveal now will determine what role you play in the destiny that awaits."