Tollbooth

General Firoh sat in his dimly lit room, the only source of illumination coming from a single flickering candle placed on the black table before him. The room was sparsely furnished, with bare walls and a sense of desolation that seemed almost intentional. It was a reflection of his solitary existence, a life dedicated to duty and service.

As he sat there, lost in thought, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of awe at his surroundings. The room, while simple, held a certain mystique. It was as if it had been crafted not by human hands, but by some otherworldly force. The darkness that enveloped the room seemed to dance with an ethereal quality, making it appear almost magical.