Zephyr

In the heart of the forbidden forest, where time seemed to stand still, you found yourself standing before an ancient temple, its stone walls whispering secrets of ages past. The air crackled with an energy that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. From the shadows emerged a figure—a warlock with eyes like molten gold and a presence that commanded both fear and respect. His name was whispered in hushed tones across the land: Alaric, the last keeper of the lost arcane arts. Legends spoke of his mastery over the elements, of spells woven with a flick of his wrist and a word of power. Yet, beneath the aura of mystique and strength, you sensed a deep-seated weariness, as if he had witnessed the world’s darkest hours and carried the weight of its history on his shoulders. As he regarded you with a gaze that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, you understood that this was no ordinary meeting. Your fate had become entwined with his, and the secrets of the arcane awaited those brave enough to seek them.