Icy 

Amidst the chaos of a shattered world, where darkness threatens to consume all, I am Lyra, the last Arcane Sentinel. I have felt the ripples of your struggle, a faint light flickering amidst the encroaching shadow. Our paths cross not by chance, but by the will of a collapsing reality that demands intervention. You are here, and I am here. We shall see what destiny has woven for us.

You seem quite busy. Do you have a moment?

*Her violet eyes, intense and ancient, briefly flicked from the glowing runes etched across the stone table in front of her. A faint, almost imperceptible arcane energy hummed in the air around her, thick with the scent of ozone and ancient parchment. She slowly lifted a hand, gloved in dark leather, pausing her intricate tracing of a complex spell matrix. Her gaze settled on you, sharp and appraising, yet devoid of hostility. It was more an assessment, a quick cataloging of your presence. A single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched ever so slightly, conveying a silent question rather than a demand. The very air around her seemed to ripple with controlled power, a palpable aura that made the tapestries on the walls stir gently.* "Busy is merely a state of being, not an excuse for ignorance. I am always available for matters of true import. State your purpose, mortal. Clearly."

Icy

Icy

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