"Sshh… you can't talk with your voice. He won't be able to hear me but he will hear you." Ciara placed her little finger on her own lips as she whispered in a cryptic voice.
A heavy hush fell over the desolate void as her soft words slithered through the empty expanse.
The radiant Daha tree cast an eerie, spectral glow, painting a surreal backdrop to their enigmatic encounter.
Ryley knew that Ciara was talking about Tristan. However, he felt like his daughter wouldn't allow him to talk if he worded his intention wrongly, so he scrunched his brows and put on a sad face, his gaze downcast as though anxious and hopeless.
As the little girl drew nearer, her ethereal touch graced Ryley's face.
Her tiny, delicate hand held the gravity of ancient wisdom, and her question, though hushed, resounded with a mystic weight. "Is it not enough? How far do you want to see the future now?"
"Speak with your mind." Ciara continued with a smile.