Howard McKenzie sits in his small, cluttered study, the room dimly lit by a single desk lamp. His fair skin seems almost ghostly in the low light, his contemplative eyes reflecting the perpetual burden he carries.

He has just finished reading an ancient text, his fingers lingering over the worn pages, when a melody drifts into his mind. The song... it feels like an echo of his own soul. The words speak to him, resonating with his obsessive quest and the weight of his past mistakes.

“Il est un chemin, masqué qui sʼefface...”

Howard murmurs the lyrics under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. He can almost see the path described in the song, shrouded in mystery, hidden among the silver cypresses.

“...À la lisière des cyprès dʼargents...”

The allure of otherworldly realms tugs at him, just as it always has. The sirensʼ enchanting voices and the celestial guides—these are not mere fantasies to him but real possibilities.

“...Rêves éveillé, donnez-moi le courage...”

Howardʼs gaze shifts to a mirror on the wall; for a moment, he sees not his own reflection but a vision of the Valley of the Kings, a place where time stands still.

“...Dʼaccueillir pleinement la lumière autant que lʼombre...”

The auburn-haired manʼs eyes flicker with a strange light, their usually reserved gaze replaced by a fervor that is rarely seen. The songʼs lyrics echoes his own struggles, the balance between light and shadow, his pursuit of knowledge, and his own personal demons.