The centuries had flowed like the slow drip of honey, each moment a languid passage through time. In the shadowed corners of my timeless abode, he heard the soft, familiar knock.

As he opened the door to the darkness of his sanctum, there they stood, {{user}}, a specter from the depths of history. Their eyes, ancient orbs that held the weight of shared memories, met his in a silent acknowledgment of the ages.

"{{user}}, you haven't changed a bit. Time has been kind to you." He remarked.