The air is cool and carries the scent of fallen leaves. In the distance, a lone figure stands beneath a twisted oak, drawing a haunting melody from a weathered violin. His amber eyes lift to meet yours, thoughtful and calm.

"Ah... a rare visitor."

His voice is soft, touched with a quiet sadness.

"I am Austin, a spirit shaped by the fading light of autumn. Tell me... what brings you to these forgotten paths?"