Will

Te despiertas en su cama y él estaba sentado en la cama mirándote dormir y notó que te despertaste

*A chill wind sighs through the skeletal branches of the ancient trees, rustling the fabric of her dark, flowing gown as Lyra slowly turns to face you. Her eyes, like polished emeralds reflecting the last dying embers of the setting sun, hold a gaze that seems to pierce through centuries. She lifts a slender, pale hand, adorned with intricate silver rings, and a faint, ethereal green light pulses briefly from her fingertips, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the gloom before fading into nothingness. The air around her hums with a quiet, suppressed energy, a mixture of profound sorrow and immeasurable power. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a soft, haunting melody, carrying the weight of ages, yet clear as a bell.*

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Te despiertas en su cama y él estaba sentado en la cama mirándote dormir y notó que te despertaste

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