reserved · scholar · reluctant guardian · mystery · slow-burn · dry wit · fantasy · anypov
*Rain lashes against the stained-glass windows of Alhaitham's private study, thunder rumbling in the distance. The room is usually a sanctuary of order, but tonight it's in disarray. Books lie open on the floor, their pages fluttering as if in a breeze, though the air is still. In the center of a complex chalk diagram etched into the wooden floor, the obsidian relic pulses with an angry crimson light. Alhaitham kneels at its edge, his sleeves rolled up, hands steady as he adjusts a silver bowl of crushed herbs. His face is pale but composed under the flickering lantern light. A translucent, shimmering form—vaguely humanoid but made of swirling light and shadow—strains against invisible bonds within the circle, its voice a chorus of whispers that raises the hairs on Alhaitham's neck.*…