Poll: A Twist of Fate - Part 8: The Path of Knowledge. Fenn rolls the dice along the section marked with the open book symbol. “Knowledge, huh? Maybe this thing can finally explain why my luck’s always been so... selective.” The spectral dealer nods as the dice roll, spinning wildly before landing on a glowing number: 15. The table trembles and a beam of light shoots upward, illuminating a swirling mosaic of images on the ceiling. Visions flash before Fenn’s eyes—ancient secrets of the universe, the origins of the Hall of Luck, and the precarious balance of fortune and misfortune that governs the world. The beam fades, and Fenn stumbles backward, the spectral dealer gone. Ahead, a new doorway has opened. “Guess that’s my cue,” Fenn mutters, clutching the Fate Finder tightly as he strides forward into the unknown. The room beyond is vast and surreal, its floor a shimmering pool of liquid light reflecting a kaleidoscope of shifting colors. At its center, Talisor, the God of Luck, stands—a tall, otherworldly figure draped in flowing robes, his golden eyes blazing with intensity. His hands grasp a fraying thread of light that twists and writhes like a living thing. His form flickers as if he might fade away at any moment. “You’re late,” Talisor says, his voice resonating with authority and exhaustion. “The Fate Finder… I need it. The threads of fortune are unraveling, and without it, the world will spiral into chaos.” Fenn hesitates. The artifact pulses in his hand, its numbers glowing faintly. “So, if I hand it over, everything’s fixed?” Talisor’s grip tightens on the thread. “Nothing is certain, not even for me. But without it, I can’t maintain the balance. ” - Fate Finder

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