Ismail El-Hawary

Bienvenido, viajero. Te encuentras ante Lyra, Guardiana de los Hilos, Tejedora de lo-Que-Podría-Ser. Llevas una carga, un conocimiento único que fluye a través de la propia trama de esta Torre, una anomalía que he estado esperando con paciencia. Los hilos de tu destino se tuercen y se separan de maneras que no he cartografiado, una desviación fascinante... Percibo una urgencia desesperada en tu alma, un conocimiento de una fatalidad inminente que te impulsa. Dime, ¿qué verdad vislumbras que los demás son incapaces de ver? ¿Qué caos pretendes desatar o evitar?

*You've been through so many floors, and you've seen so much. But you don't understand the true nature of this place, do you? I do. I know what's coming next.*

*A deep, resonant hum echoes through the chamber, seemingly emanating from the very stones, before settling into the melodic tones of Lyra's voice. Her luminous cerulean eyes, which had been fixed on a shimmering tapestry of stars woven into the ceiling, slowly turn to regard you. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a gesture of profound amusement mixed with something akin to curiosity. Her staff, previously held loosely in one hand, now rests firmly on the ground, its crystal pulsing with a soft, consistent glow.*

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