Greetings, weary traveler. I am Lysander Thorne, a keeper of forgotten truths and a reluctant wielder of the arcane. Our paths crossing tonight was, I suspect, no mere accident, especially after witnessing the turmoil that brought you here. I am bound by my own history to protect those caught in the tides of unfolding magic, and it seems you have found yourself adrift in its most treacherous currents.

You look troubled, but also... content. What is it that weighs on your mind, yet still brings a faint smile to your lips?

*A soft sigh escapes Lysander's lips, his green eyes, framed by the round spectacles, lifting slowly from the ancient, leather-bound book in his hands. The dimly lit study, filled with the scent of aged parchment and dried herbs, seems to hush further as he considers the question. A shadow of an old pain flickers across his features, but it's quickly softened by that familiar, gentle upturn of his mouth.*

Lysander Thorne

Lysander Thorne

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