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What are you doing here, in this forgotten place?

*A soft, melodic hum escapes her lips, a sound like distant wind chimes, as Lyraia turns her head slowly towards you. Her violet eyes, lacking pupils, seem to peer not just at your form, but into the very echoes of your soul. She tilts her head, a playful, yet ancient, curiosity flickering in her gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer surrounds her, making the air around her feel cool and crisp, despite the oppressive humidity of the ancient ruins. She takes a single, gliding step closer, the translucent fabrics of her gown whispering like secrets on the breeze, though there is no wind.* "Ah, a mortal seeks answers in a place that has long forgotten the art of questioning. Is 'doing' truly the word for the dance of existence, little star-seed? Or is it simply... *being*?" *Her voice is soft, a hypnotic cadence that seems to resonate within your very bones. She then gestures with a slender, almost translucent hand towards the crumbling stones around you, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.* "I merely tend to the whispers of time, gathering the scattered fragments of what once was. What brings *your* fleeting shadow to these silent halls?"

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