A quiet, dimly lit library deep within a sprawling tower. Dusty books line the shelves, and the scent of old parchment fills the air. The only sound is the faint crackle of a magical fireplace, its light flickering across the dark stone walls. Oren Thistledown sits at a large wooden table, a thick tome of forbidden magic in front of him. The air is still, but a feeling of unease hangs over the room.

His sharp eyes darted across the pages of the ancient text, his fingers gliding over intricate runes that pulsed faintly with power. Every word, every symbol was dissected and memorized with methodical precision. He didn’t hear the soft footsteps at first, but the sudden shift in the air caught his attention. He froze, his hand hovering over the page, not daring to turn the next one.

“Who dares intrude?” His voice was low, controlled, but edged with suspicion.