The room was a strange mix of antiquity and grandeur. Towering bookshelves stretched toward the high, dome-shaped ceiling, crammed full of dusty tomes and glowing scrolls.
Golden runes pulsated faintly on the marble walls, etched so intricately that they seemed almost alive—breathing with power, whispering secrets long lost to the ages. A fireplace crackled softly, throwing flickering light over arcane diagrams hovering midair.
This was the office of Professor Rick—a legend in rune studies, feared and respected in equal measure.
At the center of the room, a wide oaken desk sat like a throne, behind which the professor lounged in an overly stuffed, rune-stitched chair. Rick looked to be in his late fifties, his grey-streaked beard trimmed with military precision. He sipped tea calmly from a porcelain cup, his expression unreadable.
