A detailed fantasy illustration of an old wizard with a long white beard, wearing a ragged brown robe, armored pauldron, and a large, tattered hat, holding a glowing blue crystal staff.

His robes, frayed at the hem, dusted with ash and memory, hang loose around a frame long familiar with weight of years, of war, of silence. The fabric is layered, once rich in color but faded now, as if stained by the passing of ages. His beard hangs long, curled like smoke, the color of stormclouds rolling in over forgotten mountains. Above it sits a wide-brimmed wizard’s hat vast and weather-beaten, its peak bent slightly to one side as if bowed by the weight of centuries. Strange runes flicker faintly along the brim, vanishing when looked at directly. A single pauldron of tarnished silver rests on his left shoulder, shaped like overlapping feathers or perhaps leaves armor crafted by someone who understood beauty and war equally. That arm is clad in matching metal all the way down to his arm with a metal gauntlet, articulated plates fitted over chain and leather. Not polished, but kept in quiet working order. There’s still strength beneath the steel. Beside him leans his staff. It’s older than any kingdom still standing a tall length of root-bound wood. The base widens into the shape of a blade, slim and elegant, resting within a carved wooden sheath, dark and smooth as ancient bark. But the true heart of the staff lies at its top. There, where wood meets sky, a gem rises a single crystal about a foot long, glowing faintly with a deep sapphire hue. Small branches reach up from the wood, grasping the gem as if it were a fruit from some sacred tree. One branch, slightly See more