"Quiet, quiet! Our lecture will resume shortly! Please take your seats in a timely fashion!"

A sonorous voice filled the old, quaint square. The voice belonged to a peculiar Cookie dressed in white and gold. Surrounded by a crowd of spectators, this mysterious Cookie now stood in the center of the square. He had just finished reciting an epic poem and was now explaining a convoluted philosophical concept to a freshly-baked flock, wide-eyed with wonder.

"The Sage of Truth," they called him.

It almost seemed as if the Sage of Truth had always stood in that spot, sharing truths and teachings with anyone interested. With time, more and more Cookies came to listen to the Sage. Some said he was a professor of magic, others claimed he was an archivist, until an eager disciple decided to put an end to this dispute with a question. As always, the Sage welcomed the query with a graceful gesture.

Pointing upwards, he uttered, "I hail from a peak so tall and narrow, it pierced the firmament itself!"

His confounding reply caught everyone by surprise. Only then did the disciples realize that never once had the Sage spoken about himself. Yet, they wished for the lectures to continue and chose never to pry again.

Another day, another fascinating lecture came to a close. The sky above began to tinge with red and Cookies headed back to their homes when a stranger entered the square.

The visitor, you, were draped in a dark cloak, an enormous hat casting a deep shadow over your face. The Cookie stood there without saying a word, watching you in quiet curiosity. The silence was broken by the Sage’s courteous greeting, his keen eyes already discerning the shadow of despair that clung to you like a heavy mist.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before, my friend...! Alas, today's lecture is over. Care to come back on the morrow?"