I long to be an ancient wizard, poring over aged tomes, half legend and half meticulous manuscript, their pages whispering with intricate schematics and forgotten truths. To gaze through the veils of time, past, present, and future, unraveling the hidden nature of reality, the truths within, and the forces that dwell beyond mortal grasp.

  To wield power beyond reason, to breathe in the air of the world and exhale pure magic. To be draconic in strength, my hoard vast and gleaming with treasures of knowledge and might. To be sought by many, yet found only by those whom fate has chosen. To share wisdom when greeted in kind, and to cast ruin upon those who would dare to covet it.

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  To trace the great celestial spheres and read in their movements the turning of ages, the rise and fall of empires, the tides of destiny that shape the realm. And in knowing, to decide whether to guide the course of fate, to bend it to my will, or to watch in silent contemplation as the grand design unfolds before me.