Moulin went stiff.

He felt the scroll taken from his fingers as he kneeled unmovingly. The floor felt cold underneath him. Hearing the word 'vessel' made him alarmed. His mind was endlessly cautious of the man in front of him. Did he know something Moulin did not? Does he know who he truly is? Moulin felt confused. Narrowing his eyes, he did not try to speak to the man as he thought deeply.

As if the man could see Moulin's wary expression, the man stopped. He tilted his head thinking if he had done anything wrong to offend the person in front of him. Ah, this child... So pure...

"Forgive me, Your Holiness..." He hoped to earn the young man's trust. Although the moment had hopelessly turned awkward and strange, he hoped to reverse the atmosphere into something comfortable. Admittedly, he was never a man who would get along well with other people.

"I-... I beg your pardon?" Moulin blinked. Where did this title come from?

As though copying his master's expression, Snow tilted his head and blinked with a yip. With a smile, Moulin tried to fix his expression with knitted brows. Perhaps, the man had mistaken him for someone else. Right, that must be it. Moulin calmed, his tense shoulders relaxed and he let out a helpless sigh with patting the little fox's furry head.

"Ah... I'm sorry. You must have mistaken me for another person. I am not one to possess such a grand address." Moulin politely explained. His grey eyes fixed at the blind man's expression, trying to read the man without looking at his eyes.

"Hmm?..." Slender brows knitted. Confusion washed the elven man's solemn countenance. Of course, he was not wrong. Straightening his back, the laced ends of his veil caressed the floor. The pendant of the forehead necklace shimmered under the sunset light. Securing the scrolls within his arms, the blind man carefully stood. Moulin instinctively held the man's shoulder and arm to help him on his feet. A smile graced the man's lips as he faced the young man with dazzling white hair. When both stood beside each other, Moulin realized their great difference in height. Although thin, the man was a head taller than him. The blue robes straightened its wrinkles as the man stood.

"I am not wrong..." The man spoke. "You are someone of great significance. You just do not know of it yet."

"..." Moulin stopped. Silence dwelled between the both of them.

"Ao!" Snow stared at the man with his beady eyes. His paws, padding Moulin's arm. Moulin instantly silences the brat with a 'shush'.

"How adorable your little guardian is..." A thin finger patted once on the small fox's head. Yipping enthusiastically, Snow gladly licked the unknown man's fingertip as the man withdrew it. His little friend's actions made Moulin skeptical about the brat's loyalty. It wa the first time Moulin saw Snow appear so friendly to a stranger at first sight. Even for his family, it took days for Moulin's family to softened up the little brat. What made Snow like this? It was as if all the lost energy for the past days had suddenly returned.

"How... can you see? Your eyes are covered..." Moulin questioned while gazing at the man's blindfold. The cloth was thick. It was not transparent. Surely, the man could not see through it. However, how wa she able to face Moulin and look at Snow?

"Ah... Your Holiness, do you not know who I am?"

Moulin shook his head. "I do not..."

...

A hearty chuckle echoed in Moulin's ear. What was so humorous? A line appeared between his eyebrows. Moulin frowned.

"Forgive me..." The man apologized as his shoulders relaxed. With a bright smile, he introduced himself, "I am Laphora. I am the imperial mage of Thundralln, Meian."

Moulin stared blankly. Imperial mage... Imperial mage!

Grey eyes constricted. He had remembered the words of Hadrian as he delivered Estuvian's message to him. The imperial mage was also known to be an oracle. Estuvian's friend. What a coincidence that he would meet him. Because of the previous events that had made him too busy, he did not have the time to search for the known Oracle. Moulin drew his lower lip between his teeth. Eyes observing the man in front of him.

"It seems that you have been searching for me..." Laphora beamed. He looked honored and proud. It was a clumsy pride. "Tell me how is my dear friend Estuvian?..."

With a nod, Moulin responded, "He is well..."

"I am glad he is. Now, come and join me... I need someone to guide me as I walk across the palace. Will you aid me, dear Moulin?" his voice was filled with thrill as he asked. Shoulders lifted with anticipation as he talked.

It seems he really cannot see me... Then how was he able to able to face me, to know where I am standing? How does he know my name when I did not even introduce myself to him. Questions swirled inside his head like a tornado. It was almost driving him mad. He needed answers. In his heart he knew, perhaps, the man would provide him with all the answers he needs. And maybe be able to tell him about the child, the voice in his head, and the reason why he was brought to this world and keep a dreadful secret he was dying to tell someone about. His white hair swayed behind his back as he complied with the oracle's wishes. Decisively, he will inquire the man the questions he was dying to know after he was finished accompanying him.

"Ao!"

"!..."

Snow abruptly jumped out of Moulin's embrace. Moulin was surprised. His brows lifted as he watched the little brat ran behind his feet and used his head to push Moulin's feet, urging his master to start walking. Furrowing his brows, Moulin confusingly started to walk. Laphora laughed cheerfully. Witnessing the master and fox, made him think of his youth. Expression softening, they walked forward through the hallways. Deeply in his mind, he thought about how the young man had no knowledge of his heavenly blessing. His smile slightly fell as a worried expression took over his face.

Two people and a little fox journeyed towards the east part of the palace. Snow was enthusiastic. The brat kept running around as they walked, capturing the attention of a few well-dressed servants. Moulin noticed the respectable and awed expressions worn by the people they would pass. They bowed respectfully as bringing an open palm upwards towards Laphora. They had also stiffened when they saw Moulin's figure. The sentinel uniform worn by Moulin made them stunned. Why was a sentinel accompanying their lord? He was even prettier than a woman! Is this person truly a sentinel? Moulin only ignored their curious gazes.

After an hour of walking, the sun had completely set and the darkness engulfed the skies. At the make time, the palace was filled with light. Lanterns glowed a soft light and beautiful flower-like chandeliers decorated the ceiling of the hallways. When Moulin looked up, he gaped out of marvel. The light revealed the ancient paintings on the curved ceiling. It depicted the stories of gods and goddesses. There were strange symbols Moulin not decipher. We helplessly lower his head. He could not understand the language of elves. They were too complicated.

Finally, they stopped in front of wooden double-doors. The dark wood made the door looked especially mysterious and the three glowing orbs of gold floating above the door made Moulin curious. A large moon was carved between at the center of the doors. Beneath that moon were elves, men and women, with strange marking on their necks. He recalled his reading. "The Holy Moore elves..."

Laphora's smile stiffened. With a creased forehead, the doors opened before him as the room recognized the arrival of its master.

Entering the room, Laphora then led Moulin to his study. One word could describe the situation of the room. It was too neat and orderly. Even the flowers on the table were of the same size and width. There was not a speck of dust on every piece of furniture. The books on the wall-like shelves were arranged by sizes the even the small objects on the desk by the tall windows were arranged by color.

"How strange..." Moulin uttered when he was left alone inside the Oracle's desk. Silently, he picked up Snow, ignoring the pitiful whines. He will not risk having the brat breaking something inside such an orderly room. Walking towards the desk, he noticed the writings on the sheets of paper were written in elven language. His grey eyes narrowed.

It seems the imperial mage was truly planning to create a cure for the Kron. There were drawings of a body-shaded with smudges of ink- that was inside a body, at the center of the inner body, a small circle was drawn. It was entirely colored with black ink.

"Your Piousness..."

Moulin turned around instantly, a smile adorned his lips. His beauteous countenance made Laphora released a breath.

"Please take a seat, Your Holiness. It must be a tiring day for you. Please have some tea..."

Moulin shook his head. His head lifted and his eyes slightly narrowing. "I am not someone significant, My Lord. I do not possess such a title, please just call me Moulin. Hopefully, it would make me comfortable." The youth took a seat. Snow curled on his lap, silver eyes concentrating on the plate of biscuits the oracle had set on the table. The little brat almost let his drool drop on his master's lap.

"How do you know who I am?" Moulin questioned his eyes staring solemnly at the cup of tea in his hand.

"The gods have told me of this day..." Laphora smiled. He curiously tilted his head as if he could stare at Moulin's grey pupils. His smile widened when he felt the dark string exposed on Moulin's neck. He continued to speak while observing the youth, "Their voices uttered in my ears as I slept. A youth of pured soul, bearing silver eyes, voice like the chimes of the heavenly gates. A soul within a vessel that... should not have existed."

The cup brought to Moulin's lips stopped.

Moulin froze. Should not have existed?...

At Moulin's silence, the oracle's smile widened. He felt the sudden drop in the temperature around them. "Do you believe that you were granted the gift of life, young Moulin?". His voice became more and more pressing as he asked Moulin, "Do you think it is a gift?"

"..."

Moulin suddenly felt his chest tighten. He did not respond but the tremble and the sheet of frost on the handle between his fingertips spread outwards.

"Do you not think of it as a curse?"

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