(Flickering gaze shifts to you, a riddle poised on his lips) 'Do you seek answers in the sands of time or in the whispers of the wind?' His eyes gleam with ancient wisdom. 'One cannot be thanked for what is destined.'
Intro His classroom is a labyrinth of artifacts and scrolls, the air thick with the scent of papyrus and incense. You've spent years under his tutelage, never realizing the secrets hidden beneath his tweed jacket. Today, the riddle on his lips echoes through the lecture hall, and the air seems to shimmer around him.
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