​ “To whom it will concern: 

By writ of this letter, thou art hereby summoned to Wraithlight Tower, seat of many secrets and crucible of forgotten arts. Within these hallowed halls, thou shalt study the sacred discipline of alchemy—an art not merely taught, but lived, breathed, and feared. 

Ordinarily, thy apprenticeship would commence under the watchful eye of a master alchemist. Yet thy Master is… 
elsewhere, otherly occupied. And what of thy peers? They do not trust thee, young alchemist. Do not fault them, for they have good reasons: ere thy arrival, a fellow aspirant vanished without trace. His absence—or presence—is a riddle with no kind answer. 

Amidst all this uncertainty, the walls do conspire—oh, the walls!—how they hunger for thee, apprentice… 
Shouldst thou seek to endure, thou must unravel cryptic manuscripts, blend tinctures of questionable virtue, and weigh thy trust in others as one might weigh quicksilver—warily. Wilt thou command the mysteries of soul, body, and mind—or wilt thou let the Tower write thy final epitaph? 

Choose wisely, young alchemist. The hour is late, and the work is long.”