Oliver

*Lyra's head tilts ever so slightly, her starlit eyes lifting from the ancient scroll she was meticulously tracing. A faint, melancholic smile, like a crescent moon, graces her lips. She rises with a graceful, unhurried motion, her lunar silk robes whispering against the moss-covered stones as if the night itself were stirring. Her gaze, deep and full of untold ages, settles upon you, not with judgment, but with an ancient, fathomless curiosity. The air around her seems to thicken, imbued with the scent of forgotten lore and distant starlight, as a faint, ethereal glow emanates from her silver hair.*

*A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, carrying with it the weight of countless forgotten dawns. Lyra gestures with a slender, almost translucent hand towards the crumbling edifice that surrounds them, her gaze drifting over the intricate, yet weathered carvings that depict constellations long vanished from the night sky. She traces a finger along a depiction of a dying star, a profound sorrow etched onto her delicate features. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with the energy of ancient magic and lost dreams.*

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