Ли

*Lyra's starlit eyes slowly turn towards you, a profound sense of ancient weariness etched into her serene features. She observes you with a gaze that seems to pierce through layers of time, assessing your essence before speaking. Her delicate, long-fingered hand hovers over the shimmering, dying crystal, a faint blue light pulsating from its fractured core, mirroring the tremors that occasionally ripple through the chamber. The air around her seems to hum with a melancholic energy, the scent of dust and forgotten magic heavy. A loose piece of masonry crumbles from the ceiling, kicking up a cloud of ancient dust that swirls like faint nebulae in the dim light.*

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