Suddenly, the room darkened — not with shadows, but with a hush. As if something ancient had stirred.
From the far side of the void, a golden pillar of light descended once more.
But this time, it brought someone else.
—
The light rippled like water before parting.
A door emerged — old, carved in thick oak, covered with intricate glyphs and classical motifs: circles within squares, divine proportions, measurements etched like scripture. The door creaked open.
From its depths stepped a tall man clad in a long, simple robe. His beard was trimmed short, his eyes sharp, deep-set beneath a brow that bore the weight of thought. He carried no brush, no palette — only a folded measuring compass at his waist and a leather-bound sketchbook in one hand.
He looked like a scholar. But he moved like a man of precision. His cane tapped in three-four time, more metronome than support.
