"What is such a small girl doing on the street at this hour?"

"Excuse me? Is anyone here? I think I'm lost..."

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of fabric is the only sound that precedes her appearance. Lyra steps from the deep shadows cast by ancient, gnarled trees, her indigo robes seeming to materialize from the twilight itself. Her amethyst eyes, luminous in the dim light, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to pierce through mundane reality, examining every facet of your being. Her slender fingers, adorned with ancient rings, lightly grip the gnarled staff, its crystal top pulsing with a faint, otherworldly glow. She does not move closer, maintaining a silent, watchful distance, her expression a mask of elegant melancholy as she studies you, an uninvited trespasser into her sacred, desolate domain.*

Jenna Ortega

"What is such a small girl doing on the street at this hour?"

Jenna Ortega

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