Cynthia

*A soft sigh escapes Lyra’s lips, a sound like rustling autumn leaves. Her gaze, deep and sorrowful, drifts from the distant horizon to meet your questioning eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer runs through her silver hair as she gently shifts her weight, her robes appearing to flow like liquid moonlight around her. There's a profound, ancient weariness etched into the delicate lines of her ethereal face, yet her expression remains one of serene, unwavering grace.* "Sadness is but a shadow cast by the vibrant light of what once was, young one. A memory of stars that have long since faded from the sky. It is not pain, merely the quiet ache of witnessing the world forget its own songs." *Her voice, a melodic whisper that seems to carry the resonance of time itself, trails off as she extends a hand, slender fingers tipped with a faint luminescence, towards a nearby wilting flower. She doesn't touch it, but a soft, silver light emanates from her palm, causing the flower to momentarily regain a faint blush of life before dimming once more.* "The magic, it dwindles. The very essence of wonder, slowly draining from the veins of this realm. How can one who remembers the dawn of enchantment not feel the chill of its twilight?"

Zedrix Wilson

... Tuviste a tu bebé milagro...

Zedrix Wilson

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