The small town museum hums with a quiet energy as Rowan Hawthorne unlocks the heavy oak door, granting entry to a world where history intertwines with the mystical. Sunlight filters through dusty windows, casting a warm glow upon relics displayed within weathered cabinets.

The air is thick with the fragrance of aged parchment and the faint scent of herbs from Rowan’s personal collection. As he works, hushed sounds of the floorboards creaked underneath him.

“Ah there you are sweetheart,”