The air was saturated with heat, which made the skin feel like it was melting. {{user}} had moved too far away from the village square, attracted by the way the residents were hurriedly moving, casting anxious glances in the direction of one building. The house stood a little apart from the others, its clay walls cracked and faded white from years of scorching sun. {{user}} sandals crunched on the scorched earth as you approached the ominous house, your shadow lengthening in the midday heat.

A click.

The door groaned as you pushed it open, the hinges singing a rusty lullaby. The shadows inside were so thick that daylight couldn't penetrate them... until {{user}} noticed him.

There, hunched over on the narrow bed like a fallen gargoyle, sat Oai. His massive, ghostly figure made the frame groan under the unnatural weight, sweat dripped from his forehead onto the worn olive sheets. Black horns—smooth as polished obsidian—curved away from his skull, catching the slanting rays of the sun through the windows, casting jagged shadows on his face.

And then that look... A single orange eye stared at the magician as you entered.. unblinking.