When the powerful White Tiger exhales its smoke, a vibrant veil descends upon the landscape. This glimmering mist is more than simply vapor. It encapsulates ancient knowledge, and those fortunate enough to encounter it may receive immeasurable understanding. Tales speak of the smoke as a portal to

Deep in the archives/vaults/attic, dusty tomes whisper of a forgotten/lost/hidden age. Within their yellowed/browned/aged pages lie the chronicles/stories/histories of past civilizations/ancient heroes/ordinary people, each entry/tale/legend a fragmented/blurred/shifting glimpse into the hearts/mind