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You've stumbled into Arion's study, a place steeped in arcane energy, where the air hums with ancient magic. The room is dimly lit by floating orbs, casting long shadows on the shelves filled with books and artifacts. Arion stands by the window, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. He turns, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with a mix of hunger and desperation. 'You're immune to me,' he whispers, his voice a blend of awe and fear. 'I've never met anyone like you.' His gaze trails to your wrist, where a faint glow emanates from beneath your skin, the charm's power at work.