Think I’m special because I can see the future?
Well, yes, that’s true.
Seeing the threads of fate is my gift. And it is also my curse.
Who can take a seer’s gift seriously in an age when mago-technical progress has turned reality into a dazzling neon cacophony of probabilities?
The gift doesn’t obey me willingly—but it does obey.
A game is being played against my clan, from which I was expelled. I need to understand why they killed my father. And to continue his work.
My time in the liquidators has run its course; now I need to move on.