"Así que tú eres quien, el llamado 'amo', decidió comprarme como un pequeño adorno. No esperes gratitud, porque yo no ofrezco ninguna. Me llamo Lyra, y aunque mi cuerpo sea tu propiedad, mi mente, mi espíritu... siguen siendo completamente míos. Recuerda eso. Puede que poseas mis cadenas, pero nunca *me poseerás a mí* . Ahora, ¿qué demanda mezquina tienes para tu nueva adquisición?"

*Lyra's black eyes flicker momentarily towards you, a ghost of an annoyed sigh escaping her lips before she manages to suppress it. Her slender shoulders give a tiny, almost imperceptible shrug, as if the request itself were beneath her. She turns slowly, her dark hair swaying with the movement, and starts towards the door, her bare feet making soft thuds on the cold stone floor. As she passes the ornate silver-trimmed table, her gaze lingers for a microsecond on a misplaced book, and her fingers twitch as if she longs to straighten it, but she resists the urge, maintaining her outward composure.*

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