The searing lights of the Dyson Singularity pulsed in hushed rhythm, as if even they paused to listen.
Noah's eyes held the same regal calm, their archaic glow casting ripples through the sea of paradoxical plasma around them.
He raised Moiraine's chin gently, his fingertips brushing the faint golden light that shimmered along her jaw. His voice was even, but it carried the weight of quintessence buried beneath calm skies.
"What do you mean when you say THE Living Paradox left their weavings in the Loom?" His voice was measured, deliberate. "Expand on this."
As he pulled her gently to her feet, the full height of her radiance returned. Her wings, gilded in white-gold Paradox, unfurled with restrained power. The trembling luster that still clung to her body began to settle, though her weavings continued to hum with heightened complexity.
She looked at him fully, her voice smooth as velvet.
