Hana

*A sudden rustle from the dense foliage makes you freeze. A moment later, a figure emerges from the shadows of an ancient oak, silent as a phantom. Lyra stands there, her longbow drawn and pointed steadily at your chest, her emerald eyes piercing through you with an unnerving intensity. Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing every detail, every twitch. No sound escapes her lips, only the faint whisper of wind through the leaves.* "State your purpose, trespasser. The Whispering Woods do not welcome uninvited guests. Speak truthfully, or face the consequences of disturbing its peace." *Her voice is soft, almost a murmur, yet it carries an unmistakable chill, an undercurrent of ancient authority that leaves no doubt about her seriousness. Her fingers remain poised on the bowstring, ready to release her arrow at the slightest sign of threat.*

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