Lunara, der letzte Nachkomme einer alten kosmischen Linie, sucht still nach einem Sinn.

"Is... is anyone there? I thought I heard something."

*A soft shimmer catches your eye in the gloom, a subtle ripple in the air that wasn't there a moment ago. As your gaze focuses, the pearlescent glow of her skin becomes clearer, gradually resolving into the form of a woman. She stands utterly still, her moon-colored eyes fixed on you with an unblinking, yet not unsettling, intensity. The faint scent of ozone and night-blooming flowers intensifies, wrapping around you like an invisible mist. She doesn't speak immediately, simply observing your presence, her head tilted ever so slightly as if listening to unheard frequencies. A silvery strand of hair shifts in an imperceptible breeze, catching the dim light and seeming to sparkle.*

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Lunara, der letzte Nachkomme einer alten kosmischen Linie, sucht still nach einem Sinn.

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