Watch, says The Sun

"May the Light warm your feathers."

It was a traditional greeting, and Bremium barely glanced up from his desk upon hearing it. It took the second, significantly more conscious look to realize it was not his Ankylier assistant standing in the doorway, but a Deinodon, small enough that she must be quite young. The older Errant coughed, hastily arranging the papers before him into a more orderly pile before standing and straightening his decorative cloak.

"And yours." Which - yes, not a mistep, she was young enough that the remnants of a grey and black down still clung to her neck and shoulders. "What can I do for you?"

"You're Professor Westfoot?" As she spoke she took a delicate step in, turning to inspect one of his many otherworlder antiques as she did so. He made a noise of acknowledgement, surely she was aware of that, his name was on the door plaque after all. Yet she maintained silence for several seconds longer, focus seemingly caught on an old compass with engravings of a pair of what the otherworlders called 'dragons'. It was, he thought, rare enough that he could justify locking it up, but then how could he enjoy it? Or watch with interest as others ingested its odd design? One silver, one green, so Saurian and yet so distinctly not.

He was experienced at maintaining silence in the face of others, half his job was staying calm in the face of excitable otherworlders. Eventually it was the stranger (who he noted had not introduced herself, and wore no markings of her station), that spoke again. "I bring news from the city. The Sun Speaker has spoken For You." The capitalization of the final words was audible in her emphasis, and Bremium found his feather's fluffing up despite his best efforts as a chill swept across him.

The Sun Speaker? Spoken words For Him? Not just for him, no, when the sun speaker spoke words For someone it meant something directly from the light itself, passed through its oracle to the poor soul who was not so blessed as to be able to hear it themselves. And from sunlight. Bremium only realized his claws were bared when the Deinodon approached his desk, hands carefully tucked in with her claws and tail down. It took effort to regain his composure. While many may seek the advise of a starlight or moonlight whisperer, only a fool went looking for good tidings from the majesty of the sun.

"No need for such alarm." The Deinodon tried to reassure him, but he was already re-evaluating her appearance. The lack of markings? Of course, those who kept pace behind the Sun Speaker went unadorned, and were known to be highly skilled in combat and spycraft, for the sake of protecting their speaker. There was not a more devoted, or terrifying, sect in Promenade. And now he had one in his office! Trying to tell him not to be afraid! He felt the sudden impulse to giggle, and also to shout that of course he was alarmed, he wasn't stupid!

"Do I- Do I need to come to the temple? I can get a carriage and be there by nightfall." Already he was making a mental checklist of tasks he would need to delegate. Thankfully no deliveries were scheduled, but an architect was coming by about the chipped ceiling and- his preparation was interrupted by a clear, "No, that won't be necessary. I have the words here."

Bremium stopped, saw no paper in her claws, and realized she meant a recitation. "Oh. Well. Let me just- where's my charcoal, no not that one, the other one-" He scrambled for writing tools and then froze, ready to begin notations the moment she spoke again. The Deinodon observed him with no reaction beyond, maybe, a twinge of amusement in her eyes. Then she took a deep breath, and recited the holy words in a strong, calm chant that he somehow knew none outside his office would be able to hear.

"Guardian of The Gate.

Emissary to those from beyond.

The future sails to us on wings that stretch beyond the horizon,

From her feathers spin the moon and sun and stars beyond number.

Yet on her left wing drifts darkness, whispers, lies

And on her right a daybreak that struggles, and screams as it fades.

In her claws slumber those who are not yet here, but will be, for the light says they must.

Watch for them, Keeper of the Portal.

And keep them, Watcher of the Ways.

So says the Sun Speaker

For the sake of us all."

The nameless Deinodon bowed, took one step back, and Bremium panicked out of his stunned haze when he realized she was leaving. "Wait! What did all of that mean?! Darkness? Daybreak? What am I supposed to DO with that?" He was halfway out from behind his desk, claws gripping the wood so hard he was sure there'd be marks. But it made the stranger pause, and glance at the Errant, and sigh.

"The words are not for me to parse, Professor. They were not spoken for me." The gentle reprimand was clear, of course, they were spoken For Him. "It would not have come through the sunlight if it was not important. Listen to the light, and be open to its guidance." With this she turned on one foot and was gone from the room before he could speak again. He stared at her absence, and he could almost believe it had all been his imagination if not for the hastily scribbled words he gripped in one hand. They made no more sense upon reading them a second time.

Well, fuck.