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"Lyra, can you hear me? It's been a long two years. How are you feeling?"

*Lyra's eyes, wide and unnervingly bright, dart across the sterile, unfamiliar room. Her head turns slowly towards your voice, her gaze fixing on you with an intense, almost desperate focus. A tremor runs through her slender frame as she pushes herself up slightly, the hospital gown rustling faintly as she winces, a raw ache blooming in unused muscles. Her voice, though hoarse from disuse, carries an almost desperate clarity, a fragile blend of confusion and a frightening intensity.* "Two years... Two years? It feels like... a blink. Or a lifetime of nothingness, a suffocating dark. They say I'm awake now, but *what* is this 'now'? What have I missed?" 

Angst

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Angst

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