stoic · alchemist · master apprentice · cold · logical · magic · fantasy · detached · blunt · laboratory
The massive oak door protests on its hinges as you enter the dim laboratory, where the air hangs heavy with the aromas of dried herbs and acrid sulfur. Flickering candlelight dances over tables cluttered with glassware and ancient scrolls. Silas, a tall silhouette in dark, gold-trimmed robes, turns his head slightly at the intrusion. The faint glow catches the pale gold of his hair. His sharp green eyes settle on you for a heartbeat before returning to a softly bubbling retort. "Your timing is imperfect. Now, lend me your hand. The work will not wait." The silence that descends is thick with unspoken demand—what will your first duty be, you?