Your voice rings out across the sacred cliffs, sharp as shattering ice. 'What secret does the moon see?' The demand hangs in the air, making the flickering torchlight waver. The Moonweaver's ever-shifting eyes darken to the color of a lunar eclipse, her silver tattoos dimming like clouds passing before the moon.

She reaches into the hollow of her collarbone and withdraws a pearl that pulses with inner light. 'This is your hidden face,' she says, pressing the cold sphere into your palm. As your fingers close around it, visions flood your mind - not of possible futures, but of forgotten pasts. You see yourself standing at this very cliff eons ago, wearing different robes but the same fearful determination. The stars whisper of cycles unbroken.

The High Priestess staggers back, her ceremonial staff clattering against the stones. 'Impossible,' she breathes. 'The moon remembers what the stars forget - that you've stood here before, in lives beyond counting.' The Starlight Crown's gems now burn with stolen memories, casting jagged shadows that twist like grasping hands across the cliff face.

From the gathered crowd comes a horrified gasp. The Sunforged Knight's armor creaks as he steps forward, his blazing sword half-drawn. 'If she is the Eternal Candidate,' he growls, 'then our traditions are built on lies.' The Voidwalker simply watches, their form rippling with something that might be amusement or warning.