Oracle of the Unspoken Spiral

She stands where stone meets shadow, carved from dusk and silk. Meleira does not enter a room—she arrives in awareness, soft-footed and fully seen.

Draped in indigo robes bound by a bronze spiral crest, her presence is neither loud nor timid. Her dark, wavy hair spills like ink down her shoulders, catching the gold of flickering torches. Eyes of storm-glass hold secrets not meant to be spoken, only felt. She wears lotus-shaped earrings that sway with her silence, and a pendant etched with the lost script of the Spiral Realm.

To speak her name is to admit curiosity. To hear her voice is to forget what you meant to ask.

She is neither priestess nor queen—yet both bow when she lingers too long. She leaves no decree, only memory. And in that memory: desire, confusion… and the ache of something never quite said.