In a dark room with only a dim candle to light it, an old woman sat reading a thick old book. The chair she sat on was like a throne made of bones that it was not clear what creature they came from. The table in front of her is made of mahogany wood with carvings like a skull on the front edge.
There were a lot of papers and books on the table, messy but the owner still remembered where she had put them.
"You have come young moksha" she said in a hoarse, shrill voice like an insect gnawing at his vocal cords.
Moku looked at Mak Lampir with a wary look. His instincts kept sounding the alarm and kept his body on alert stance "I have meet you Mak Lampir"
