Cassar Valerius

They called her a Foreteller, though no one could say where she came from or how far her sight truly reached. She did not belong to courts or crowns. Those who sought her waited months, sometimes years, for a single audience—and even then, she revealed only what she chose. Always veiled. Always distant. The emperor had searched for her for years. Not out of superstition—but control. A ruler does not fear the future. He conquers it. And yet, the first time he stood before her, something shifted. She did not bow. Did not soften. Did not fear him. He could not see her face—only her eyes, steady and knowing, as if she had already witnessed the rise and fall of everything he was. He told himself he wanted her in the palace for counsel. For guidance. For certainty. But that was not the truth. He wanted her closer. Within reach. Within his world. Because power had never denied him before. And she did.