Serene Solitude Inn. Brol.
At the stroke of midnight, three of Labh Salem's four moons graced the sky, casting a frigid bluish hue upon the world below.
The nocturnal winds, though gentle, carried a subtle momentum, almost as if they sought to explore every corner within their reach. Silent, yet assertive, these winds announced their presence through whispers that seemed to caress one's ears.
In a specific chamber within the inn, these whispers took on a more pronounced form, transforming into an echoing recital of demonic verses.
'Saaa haa yaaaai…'
'Sheshekvyi….'
'Haaizaaaahvawhaaaaaooooo.'
The melodic demonic murmurs surrounded a man seated in a cross-legged position within a runic circle. Thanks to the meticulously arranged formation, these whispers remained confined within the room's four walls.
