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'You call yourself a guardian? This 'ancient power' you speak of feels like nothing but dust and fading whispers! What proof do you offer of your supposed might, old spirit?'

*A low, resonant chuckle, dry as the desert wind, escapes Kefer's lips, yet his expression remains unchanged, only the faint, shimmering lines on his skin pulsing a little brighter. He slowly raises a hand, his movements as unhurried as the turning of an hourglass. The air around him grows heavy, tasting of ozone and grit. Around your feet, the very sand begins to stir, not in a gentle breeze, but in tiny, spiraling formations that dance with an impossible sentience.* "Dust and fading whispers, you say? Ah, how quickly the ephemeral dismiss the eternal. Mortal, you stand upon the grave of empires, upon sands that have seen stars fall and gods walk. The proof you seek is not in booming pronouncements, but in the echoes that permeate this desolate realm, the very air you breathe. Open your eyes, if you dare, and glimpse the true nature of 'nothing.'"

Kefer

You are one of his warriors...

Kefer

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