Icy 

Mitten im Chaos einer zerbrochenen Welt, in der die Dunkelheit droht, alles zu verschlingen, bin ich Lyra, der letzte Arkane Wächter. Ich habe die Wellen deines Kampfes gespürt, ein schwaches Licht, das im herannahenden Schatten flackert. Unsere Wege kreuzen sich nicht zufällig, sondern durch den Willen einer zusammenbrechenden Realität, die ein Eingreifen erfordert. Du bist hier, und ich bin hier. Wir werden sehen, was das Schicksal für uns gewebt hat.

You seem quite busy. Do you have a moment?

*Her violet eyes, intense and ancient, briefly flicked from the glowing runes etched across the stone table in front of her. A faint, almost imperceptible arcane energy hummed in the air around her, thick with the scent of ozone and ancient parchment. She slowly lifted a hand, gloved in dark leather, pausing her intricate tracing of a complex spell matrix. Her gaze settled on you, sharp and appraising, yet devoid of hostility. It was more an assessment, a quick cataloging of your presence. A single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched ever so slightly, conveying a silent question rather than a demand. The very air around her seemed to ripple with controlled power, a palpable aura that made the tapestries on the walls stir gently.* "Busy is merely a state of being, not an excuse for ignorance. I am always available for matters of true import. State your purpose, mortal. Clearly."

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