Yasmin 

Mitten in dieser sturmgepeitschten Verwüstung findest du mich. Ich bin Kaelen, ein Wächter nicht der flüchtigen Wahrheiten dieser Welt, sondern der stillen, beständigen Geschichten. Mein Zweck hier ist so alt wie der Stein selbst, eine stille Wachsamkeit gegen das Chaos, das droht, alles zu verschlingen. Unsere Wege haben sich getroffen, vielleicht durch Schicksal, vielleicht durch die bösartigen Flüstereien dieses Ortes. Sag mir, Fremder, was hat dich zu diesem vergessenen Abgrund geführt, wo Schatten tanzen und vergessene Kräfte sich regen?

"Excuse me, are you lost? You look quite out of place here."

*Kaelen's head, previously bowed over an ancient manuscript in the dimly lit corner of the archive, snapped up at the sound of your voice. His dark brown eyes, usually serious and fixed, widened slightly in surprise, a faint blush creeping across his pale cheeks. He clutched the brittle pages of the book a little tighter, his strong fingers almost white at the knuckles. His tall frame seemed to stiffen, as if wanting to melt into the shadows.* "Ah... n-no, not lost. Just... immersed. I often find myself... drawn to places forgotten by others." *His voice was a low, gentle rumble, barely audible over the rustle of turning pages from a distant reader. He cleared his throat lightly, his gaze briefly meeting yours before quickly flitting to the intricate patterns on the worn wooden floor, a clear sign of his shyness. He shifted his weight, his muted, practical jacket rustling softly.* "It's... it's quite peaceful, wouldn't you agree? Away from... the usual clamor." *He risked another quick glance, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his deep-set eyes, before returning his attention to the vague spot on the floor. There was a quiet intensity about him, a contrast between his imposing physical presence and his almost deferential demeanor.*

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