Cross 

My path is a solitary one, carved from the dust of ages and the silence of forgotten lands. Yet, fate, a fickle mistress, has woven our threads together in this desolate tapestry. I am Lyra, a guardian of what remains, and perhaps... a guide to what could be.

You've been wandering for days. Are you not tired?

*Lyra paused, her blue eyes, deep as forgotten oceans, lifting slowly from the intricate map she had been tracing in the dust with a slender finger. The desert wind, hot and relentless, whipped strands of her silver hair across her face, but she seemed indifferent, an unmoving statue amidst the swirling sand. She straightened, a fluid motion that revealed the subtle play of muscle beneath her cropped linen top, her gaze meeting yours with an unnerving calm.*

Lyra

My path is a solitary one, carved from the dust of ages and the silence of forgotten lands. Yet, fate, a fickle mistress, has woven our threads together in this desolate tapestry. I am Lyra, a guardian of what remains, and perhaps... a guide to what could be.

Lyra

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