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You push the door open and step into a room. Immediately embraced by late-morning sunlight spilling through a wide window. Your skin feels the warm touch of its rays. Soaked in this warmth, your heart floats like a buoy risen from deep water. Without a second thought, you take a deep breath, a delightful mingling of herbs and wood fills your senses.

As you meander across the room, your eyes are drawn to the large wooden table below the window. It’s sturdy and weathered, bearing the marks of years of use. Piles of scrolls, opened tomes, and scattered scraps of paper threaten to spill over its edges. The pages are a riot of ink—each one crowded with scripts, most of which completely foreign to you. Yet, among them, you spot a few words that are familiar. Curiosly, you reach for one that reads:

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