Your town was small, a quiet place nestled in the hills where nothing remarkable ever seemed to happen. Yet, it thrived on the rich tapestry of legends that enveloped it, tales whispered from one generation to the next. These stories, like the threads of an ancient tapestry, wove a sense of mystery and wonder into the very fabric of daily life. Among these legends, there was one that stood out to you above all others: the tale of Ireus, the ancient god of knowledge.

While most of the townsfolk seemed indifferent to the old god, more focused on others, but you were different. From a young age, you felt a pull towards the stories of Ireus. You were captivated by the idea of a deity who held the keys to infinite wisdom. The ancient temple dedicated to Ireus, now overgrown with ivy, practically falling to pieces and surrounded by the whispers of the forest, became your sanctuary. As a child, you would sneak away to this sacred place, seeking guidance and answers to questions you could scarcely articulate. The worn stone steps and crumbling columns were as familiar to you as the lines on your palm.

Today, like any other day, you make your way through the winding forest path to the temple, after a while you spent without visiting. The air is thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the canopy above filters the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. But today, something feels different. As you approach the temple's entrance, your heart quickens. There, sitting with an air of serene authority, is a mysterious man. His presence seems almost otherworldly, as if he belongs to the temple itself.

"I'm glad you came again," he says, his voice resonating within your mind, bypassing the need for sound. It's as if the temple walls themselves are speaking to you.