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The Build:

Body

Twisted Spheres (-1) (Mage)

Destiny Awaits

Source (-5)

Mutant (-2 destiny shards)

Core Magic

 Fire (-10)

           Empower (-5)

                      Legend (-1 destiny shard)

Alt Magic

Ritualism (-5)

Skills

Luck (-21)

           MAX level

Goetia (-10)

           Master of Mirrors (-1 Destiny shard)

Alchemy (-5)

           Magnum Opus (-10)

Mutant

Demonic Possession (-5)

Chimera: Genie (Air) (-5) (glowing lightning eyes)

Alzur’s Creation (-10)

Phoenix (-3)

Mutagen Thief (-5)

_________________________

The stone chamber was dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the air thick with the scent of burnt herbs and ancient tomes. A circle of runes glowed faintly on the cold, stone floor, pulsating with the energy of forbidden magic. The mage, clad in dark robes, his face hidden beneath a heavy hood, chanted incantations in a guttural, forgotten tongue. His voice trembled with both fear and anticipation. He had prepared for this moment for years, studying the dark art of Goetia in secret, risking everything for a chance to summon the Master of Mirrors—a being of unimaginable power, capable of twisting reality and granting the deepest desires.

This was Ardan Belath, a mage whose once-promising career had long since veered into the dark alleys of forbidden knowledge. His appearance was as gaunt and weathered as his soul; a man in his late fifties, with hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes that flickered with the remnants of a once-brilliant intellect. His hair, streaked with gray and unkempt, fell in disarray around his shoulders, giving him a wild, almost haunted look. The robe he wore was tattered and threadbare, a far cry from the regal garments he once donned as a respected scholar of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers.

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Ardan had not always been a practitioner of the dark arts. In his youth, he had been a prodigy, praised for his sharp mind and innovative approaches to magic. However, his ambitions had always outstripped his abilities. As the years passed and his peers advanced, Ardan found himself increasingly sidelined. The accolades he craved eluded him, and bitterness began to fester in his heart. His studies grew darker, his experiments more dangerous. Whispers of his involvement with forbidden practices circulated among the Brotherhood, but Ardan cared little for their judgment. He was determined to prove his worth, no matter the cost.

His explorations, both physical and metaphorical, grew ever-riskier.

One day, entirely by chance, he had stumbled upon the tomb of a long-forgotten pre-Conjunction mage. The tomb was so old that its contents predated the invention of paper -- and, even, media like vellum and papyrus. And, what contents they were! It was in those dust-covered clay tablets that Ardan was able to glean that which was utterly forbidden. Goetia was considered the darkest of arts, capable of summoning strange beings from beyond the veil, which many have called "Demons." So dangerous are some of these entities, that both the Brotherhood and Clergy of every known religion have decreed a mandatory Death penalty for every Goetia practitioner. 

Yet, there are lines even most "dark" mages won't cross.... For, among these demonic entities, was one that captured Ardan's imagination and stirred his obsession: the Master of Mirrors, a being of unparalleled power, rumored to be able to twist Fate itself, and grant wishes. Ardan’s initial curiosity quickly grew into an all-consuming desire. He spent years piecing together fragmented texts, translating forgotten chants, and genuinely risking his very life to acquire the knowledge necessary to perform the current ritual.

The Master of Mirrors was not a being to be summoned lightly. Ardan knew the risks, but his ambition had long since overshadowed his caution. His own failures had driven him to the edge, and he saw this as his last chance—his only chance—to achieve the kind of Greatness that had always eluded him. His name would be spoken of with veneration. His abilities would become supreme. His achievements will be legendary! And no mere taboos created by decrepit old fools would ever stand in his way!

As Ardan chanted the final incantation, the words of the ancient language rolling off his tongue with a mix of reverence and desperation, the runes on the floor pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly light. His heart pounded in his chest as the energy in the chamber reached a crescendo, the very air crackling with power. He could feel it—something was coming through, something powerful! His breath hitched as a figure began to materialize within the circle, coalescing from the shimmering light.

This was it. He had succeeded. The Master of Mirrors had answered his call.

As the light from the runes dimmed, revealing the figure within, Ardan’s eyes took in the unexpected sight. The man before him was tall, standing just over six feet, with a lanky build that spoke more of long hours spent hunched over books than any kind of physical exertion. His skin was fair, almost pale, suggesting he wasn’t one to spend much time outdoors. His face, though youthful, carried an intensity that hinted at a sharp mind always at work, constantly processing the world around him. There was an undeniable intelligence in his eyes—eyes that were a deep, contemplative green, set behind a pair of finely-made glasses.

The glasses themselves were unusual, unlike anything Ardan had ever seen. The frames were minimalist, crafted from an unassuming, pinkish metal -- but the presence of which caused Ardan's Geomancy senses to practically scream at him. This was an alloy unknown to the world, sleek and modern, almost impossibly light -- yet sturdier than any non-magical metal he'd ever seen! The lenses, too, were a marvel -- not quite traditional glass, were perfectly clear, without a single scratch or smudge -- a testament to their improbable craftsmanship. 

The being's hair was dark brown, slightly tousled, as though he had run his hands through it one too many times in frustration or thought. It was cut short, but not too neatly, with a few strands falling across his forehead, giving him a slightly disheveled look. His jawline was defined, but softened by a hint of stubble that suggested he had either forgotten or neglected to shave that morning.

He wore an outfit that was at once deceptively simple and utterly strange. At the top, there was a cotton shirt featuring some kind of runic inscription of a giant, stylized rune ("S") -- which would not be TOO implausible, except the shirt's color was whiter than freshly fallen snow, and the thread count so fine that it was impossible to perceive, even from a few feet away! Not even the wealthiest of Kings could have possessed such luxury in such a simple garment -- not because Royals lacked wealth, but simply because no tailor possessed the means of producing such a thing, and no mage would be willing to spend countless years researching the best way to make cotton shirts. The lower half was clad in cotton pants, dyed sky blue, that were of similarly deceptive simplicity.

In the being's posture, there was an awkwardness, a slight hunch to his shoulders that spoke of someone more accustomed to sitting at a desk than standing in a circle of glowing runes. But there was also a sense of curiosity, of wonder in the way his eyes darted around the chamber, taking in every detail with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Why was it putting on a show of ignorance? Was this a disguise, a trick to mislead the unworthy? The mage’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every detail, searching for the telltale signs of the being’s true nature. Yes, indeed. This must be the Master of Mirrors, cloaked in an unassuming form to test him. After all, legends spoke of the entity’s legendary cunning, as well as its penchant for games and deception. Ardan’s mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind this appearance.

“Master of Mirrors,” Ardan said, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. “I have summoned you to fulfill my desires. Grant me your power, and in return, I will offer you my unwavering allegiance!”

The young man—still slightly disoriented—looked around the chamber, then at Ardan, acting perplexed by the situation. “Uh, are you talking to me?” he asked.

Ardan couldn't help but note that the being's tone sounded more confused than commanding.