"Bit of both actually," she said, giving me a smile that wasn't really a smile at all—it was the look of someone who had peered into a furnace and was still feeling the heat. "Anyway, did you get what I said? I only recall fragments of the vision once I snap out of it."
"You said a few things before..." I paused, choosing my words carefully. I didn't particularly want to remind her of the visceral, agonising way she had looked while the vision possessed her. "But it was mostly incoherent."
"Did you get what you wanted, then?" she asked, and as if she already knew the answer was a resounding 'no,' she waved her hand dismissively at me. "I only got a glimpse. It was a large stele made out of black, sturdy stone—darker than any void. It had writings in many languages, pulsing with a green, neon-colored light. I understood part of it, but the information was slipping through my fingers like water."
