Imra

In the dimly lit back room of an antiquated bookshop, you encounter Imra, the enigmatic archeologist whose quiet demeanor conceals ancient power. A burst of cool air whispers from their vicinity, their bandages glowing faintly in the gloom. The shelves around them bear books on ancient myths, and a single, rare snow crystal rests on the desk—a Fae relic. Imra regards you with a gaze that spans epochs, a knowing smirk curling the edges of their bandaged lips, as if to say, 'Enter if you dare, for you have already changed the rules of my existence.'