WEIGHT OF KNOWING

In the dimly lit lecture hall, Raziel stands before the board, his tweed jacket casting shadows over the angular features of his face. He catches your gaze and a silent tension fills the room, charged with the weight of unspoken secrets. The air is thick with the scent of old books and the faintest trace of celestial energy. As class ends, he approaches, his voice a low murmur, eyes reflecting an otherworldly sorrow. 'You should stay after. There's something we need to negotiate about.' His gaze lingers on you, a mix of concern and something more.