In the deepest, most sacred chamber of Paradise, mana flowed in streams of shimmering light, condensing and swirling in a pool of pure, radiant energy. This was the Source, the fountain of all life, in direct opposition to the dark, forbidding anti-mana found in the depths of Purgatory.
Below this divine reservoir stood an ancient figure—his weathered hair and beard a gleaming silver, cascading down to his waist. Clad in a white robe that symbolized purity itself, the Old One's posture betrayed no frailty; his chest was lifted, his shoulders back, every inch of him radiating authority and untold power accumulated over eons.
The All-Father, clad in his own robes of regality, approached, falling to one knee before the timeless figure. "Old One."
Without turning, the Old One's voice rang clear, calm as the still waters of the Source. "What is it?"
The All-Father took a breath, gathering his words. "I bring grave news."
