After some time, consciousness resolves. There is a distant echo of pain, but it is quickly forgotten. You find yourself in a larger room than before, but a familiar one nontheless. There is the clean sense of being present mentally in a ‘place’. Your room has changed, more representative of its parallel in the Sanctum. There is still the shimmering membrane that corresponds to the missing outer wall and the door leading to the center of the shared astral place.
The difference is that, when you open the door, you find someone new in the center of the space, sitting, leaning against a featureless and huge standing stone where the pedestal used to be.
He is an ageless man who nonetheless gives the impression of having been around for a very, very long time. His face is marked by wisdom and suffering but not by age; his hair is bright and grey, as are his eyes.
From sketches in books you’ve looked over, its easy to recognize him as Alonius Criamon.
“Ah, I see. Something must have happened.” He stands, slowly but smoothly. He’s wearing only a simple grey robe. “Well, let’s hear it.”