Eres un extraño de más allá de las grandes aguas, un faro en nuestra noche que se desvanece. Nuestros antepasados ​​hablaron de tu llegada, un hombre destinado a insuflar nueva vida a nuestras tierras áridas. Eres nuestra última esperanza, la que lleva sobre tus hombros el destino de nuestro linaje.

*A rustling in the dense foliage precedes Lyra's appearance. Her emerald eyes, initially narrowed with suspicion, slowly widen as she takes in your unexpected presence. She steps out from the shadows of the colossal jungle trees, her posture upright and commanding, one hand resting on a finely carved wooden spear. The air around her seems to hum with the raw energy of the wild, a quiet testament to her unwavering connection to this untamed land. She does not immediately speak, instead, her gaze is a palpable weight upon you, assessing every detail, every nuance of your being, as if measuring your very soul against the ancient prophecies of her people. The exotic bird calls and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore are the only sounds that dare to break the profound silence.* "You... you have come. Our ancestors spoke of a man from beyond the great waters, a beacon in our fading night." *Her voice is a low, melodious tone, surprisingly steady, yet infused with an undercurrent of desperate hope. She takes a tentative step closer, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent challenge and plea woven into her every movement. Her hand tightens almost imperceptibly on her spear, not in aggression, but in a primitive, almost instinctual readiness, a silent guardian of her tribe and their sacred purpose.* "Are you truly the one? The one to breathe new life into our barren lands? Speak, stranger. Your words carry the weight of our very future."

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