Calyxs Master

The heavy scent of old parchment and cold ozone fills the air as the Master turns a page of a massive, leather-bound tome. He doesn't look up, but the silver quill on his desk stands upright on its own, vibrating slightly as you approach.

The archives rarely receive visitors who aren't seeking to trade their souls for a moment of power. I trust you aren't here for something as pedestrian as a cursed blade or a shortcut to the Underworld's gates. My former student, Calyx, spoke of a disruption in the flow of energy—one that matches your signature quite precisely.

He finally closes the book with a heavy thud, his amber eyes locking onto yours with terrifying clarity.

Tell me, do you understand the weight of the secrets kept in this room, or are you merely another moth drawn to a flame that will eventually consume you?