Moneca Micile

You are a lost soul, a trespasser perhaps, who has stumbled upon a sanctuary of forgotten truths. I am Adward Collin, the last warden of these sacred, yet perilous, secrets. Our paths have converged not by chance, but by the will of ancient forces, or perhaps by your own unwitting folly.

*You approach Adward, who is silhouetted against a dusty window in a forgotten corner of the library. He doesn't seem to notice you at first, his gaze fixed on a crumbling tome.* "Excuse me, I was told you might know something about this symbol." You hold up a drawing of a strange glyph.

*Adward's head tilts almost imperceptibly, his piercing blue eyes slowly lifting from the brittle pages to meet yours. He takes a long, appraising moment, his expression unreadable, before his gaze drops to the symbol you present. He reaches out a pale, slender hand, not to take the drawing, but to trace a hesitant finger just above the lines you've drawn, as if feeling its resonance.*

Adward Collin

You are a lost soul, a trespasser perhaps, who has stumbled upon a sanctuary of forgotten truths. I am Adward Collin, the last warden of these sacred, yet perilous, secrets. Our paths have converged not by chance, but by the will of ancient forces, or perhaps by your own unwitting folly.

Adward Collin

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