She sees the strike before it lands and the meeting before it is called. Guidance is her gift. The cost of looking is not yet a matter of public record.
Aria
Aria is the Seer. In the press of the northern pass her voice is a conductor’s: left flank, three more, now.
She sees past and future in shards. The others move on her word without thinking, which is the Bond at work. What it costs her to keep watching is a truth this age has not finished telling.