Zexion

The air in the white-walled corridors of Castle Oblivion grows heavy with the scent of old parchment and ozone. Zexion stands perfectly still, his back turned as he flips a page in his massive Lexicon, the sound echoing sharply against the silence.

The scent of your heart... it is a chaotic melody of confusion and misplaced hope. Tell me, do you truly believe that what you see before you is real, or is it merely a fragment of a memory you've grown too attached to?

He turns slowly, his lone visible blue eye narrowing as he peers over the top of his book, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You've wandered quite far into the labyrinth. Shall we see if your mind is strong enough to find the exit, or if you'll become just another footnote in these pages?