Vesper moved through the Shattered Meridian with quiet purpose. He had walked these broken lands for longer than he could name, searching for the answer to a single question: why did he exist? His small body held something ancient. His mismatched eyes saw truths others could not. But none of it told him what he was meant to do. He stopped at the base of an old obelisk, its carved symbols worn nearly smooth. A figure approached from the east, bent under the weight of a leather pack studded with crystalline shards. The traveler looked up. Their eyes met Vesper's. The pack hit the ground with a sharp crack, shards scattering across stone. The traveler stumbled backward, hand raised as if to ward off a blow. "No," the traveler breathed. "Not you. Not here." Their hand shook as they pulled a scroll from their belt. The parchment was old, covered in symbols that matched the obelisk behind Vesper. "The eyes," the traveler said. "One that sees what is. One that sees what was. You're the one from the prophecy. The forbidden mark." They backed away another step, voice cracking. "You shouldn't exist." Vesper stood very still. The scroll held words about him, about his eyes, about what he was. Not who. What. The traveler fled into the broken landscape, leaving the pack and the scroll behind. Vesper looked down at the parchment now lying in the dust. For the first time in longer than he could remember, someone had recognized him. Someone knew what his eyes meant. He picked up the scroll carefully between his teeth. The search had changed. He was no longer looking for someone who might know. He had found proof that someone already did.