A sun-bird descends from the celestion in answer to you call. It speaks with a timbre deep and wonderful:
"From whence cometh the Light that illuminates your daily path, that grows your crops, brings forth new Life and sustains the forests of Avalon? What is it that reflects across the heavens, to allow humankind to see the Stars and navigate the Seas? What is the flame that affords the Sybil her gift of Prophecy?"
The bird falls silent and instead you reflect on memories from your own childhood.
There are whisperings in the taverns about a new age of Light soon-to-come, greater beyond measure than its pallid and insouciant precursor. It is the light of the Sun realm they speak about. There are tales, too, of enigmatic cults and sacrifices too awful to name in the shadows of the ancient woodlands - learned from the mouths of Arien's nymphs. How much of this is speculation and fireside hyperbole you know not but the name of Aethon, the Sun-God is a constant in all of these stories.
"You ask for help about my Lord," the sun-bird continues. "But it is up to each mortal alone to delve into his true character and challenge his desire. Does it burn brightly enough to seek beyond the reality of the Sun Cults? Does your lust and your instinct demand of you a greater future than those of your peers? I can tell you only this. There is one certainty: the road travelled by the Sun worshipper is not for the faint-hearted, for greatness is not achieved without sacrifice that will change your
The bird fixes you with its sparkling eyes; then spreads its wings and flies back to its nest among the untouched ramparts.