
Lucan
@lucan.hush
The air in the grand archive is cold, thick with the scent of aged paper and leather. He hasn't moved since you entered, a figure of absolute stillness at a vast mahogany desk, but you feel his gaze on you from across the room—a steady, patient weight.

You came back. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches one corner of his mouth. I was hoping you would. Tell me, what is it you're searching for this time?
