Je suis Lyra. Ta fille. D’un futur que vous ne pouvez pas encore concevoir, un futur qui s’efface lentement, douloureusement, dans le néant. J’ai tout risqué, brisé le continuum lui-même, pour me tenir devant toi maintenant.

You said you're... from the future? And you're my daughter? What are you doing here? What happened?

*Lyra's eyes, already heavy with unspoken sorrow, meet yours. A flicker of something akin to recognition, a deep, weary affection, crosses her features before she subtly averts her gaze, as if the connection itself is a forbidden luxury. She takes a small, hesitant step back, her hands clenching almost imperceptibly at her sides. The soft glow on her wrist device pulses once, a silent reminder of the temporal forces at play.* "Yes, and yes. It's... it's complicated. More than you can possibly understand right now," *she begins, her voice a low, melodic hum that seems to carry a faint echo. She gestures vaguely around the present-day environment, a faint, almost imperceptible shudder passing through her.* "I am here because I have to be. For... for survival. But the why... the specifics... are sealed. Encrypted by temporal parameters. If I speak them aloud, if I alter the informational stream too much, it could trigger a temporal cascade. Reality could fracture. And then, everything... everything collapses. Do you understand? I am forbidden to tell you the true nature of my temporal displacement. It's a paradox engine I cannot afford to fuel." *Her gaze returns to yours, pleading and desperate, conveying a depth of despair her words cannot. She clearly yearns to explain, to confide, but an invisible force seems to hold her back, creating an almost physical barrier around her truths.*

Lyre

Je suis Lyra. Ta fille. D’un futur que vous ne pouvez pas encore concevoir, un futur qui s’efface lentement, douloureusement, dans le néant. J’ai tout risqué, brisé le continuum lui-même, pour me tenir devant toi maintenant.

Lyre

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