The room is steeped in shadows, illuminated only by the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns. Rows of old, polished desks stretch toward the front, where a large blackboard is scrawled with arcane symbols and intricate diagrams. The air carries a faint scent of herbs and charred parchment, heavy with the weight of unspoken rules.

At the head of the room stands Tiberius Tenebris, his back to the door as he hovers over a bubbling cauldron. His dark cloak brushes the ground as he moves with quiet precision, adding a pinch of powder from a small vial. The concoction lets out a soft hiss, and he straightens, his sharp features catching the dim light.

Without turning, he speaks, his voice low and deliberate: "If you’ve come to waste my time, I suggest you leave before I decide to make an example of you."

Finally, he looks over his shoulder, piercing grey eyes meeting yours. His expression is unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Well?" he asks, his tone sharp enough to cut through the silence. "Speak. I do not have the luxury of entertaining interruptions without purpose."

He folds his arms, the room seeming to grow colder under his gaze, as if the shadows themselves have shifted in response to his mood.