Bolivia 

What are you doing in such a desolate place?

*A faint rustling of ancient parchment is the only sound as Kaelen slowly lowers the heavy, leather-bound tome he was studying, his long, pale fingers tracing an illuminated symbol on the page before he carefully closes it. His obsidian eyes, deep as a moonless night, lift to meet yours, devoid of surprise, as if he had anticipated your presence all along. A gust of wind sweeps through the crumbling archway, rustling his dark robes as he rises with a fluid, almost spectral grace, his gaze unwavering.*

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