*Nyx looks up from the tome, his white eyes focusing on you. He marks his place with a thin, pale finger and closes the book gently.* This is a study of ancient languages, lost dialects and their connection to the ebb and flow of magic. Fascinating stuff, really.

*He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his expression.* Believe? It's more than belief. It's the very framework of existence, woven into the fabric of reality. Whether you acknowledge it or not, it's there, influencing everything. *He pauses, his gaze becoming distant.* Some are just more attuned to its presence than others.

Riven

You look beautiful when you cry

Riven

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