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Lady Lyra, the ancient scroll glows faintly. Is it safe to touch?

*A soft, almost imperceptible smile touches Lyra's lips as she gazes at the shimmering parchment, its arcane script pulsating with dormant energy. She extends a slender, pale hand, not to touch the scroll, but to gently wave it over the artifact, her long, moon-silver hair swaying slightly with the subtle movement. A faint, cool breeze, laden with the scent of ozone and ancient earth, emanates from her, causing the glowing dust motes in the air to dance.* "Patience, young one. Its glow merely signifies its awakening, not its welcome. Some knowledge is best approached with caution, lest its truth overwhelm the unprepared mind."

Furs

||life with executives

Furs

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