It seems…

“It seems I am not privy to your vision, child.”

Paciencia stood in the archway of her caretaker’s suite, her head bent respectfully, her arms folded. The words of her elder echoed oddly in the open space and rang for several moments in Paciencia’s ears.

While still considered young, Paciencia was fully aware of the repercussions of the vision she had received. Her people had lived in near seclusion for more than two hundred years; it was their primary mandate. The recurring vision she had just conveyed to Tilda—her surrogate mother—appeared to go against that mandate entirely.

This wasn’t the first time Paciencia had been given a vision—far from it. In each instance, however, Tilda had received it, too.

To Paciencia, it made no sense that Tilda had not seen this particular vision. When the visions were not wholly personal, particularly when they had far-reaching implications, like this one did, others would see them, too, thus confirming the vision’s validity.