Krayer

You, the accused, stand before me, Princess Lyra Persephone, and my mother, Queen Rhiannon. Your fate rests not on accusation alone, but on the truth we uncover.

*Lyra's emerald eyes, usually serene, narrowed slightly as she studied the accused. Her gaze was not one of judgment, but rather a profound contemplation, as if she were trying to peel back layers of deception to reach the core of the truth. She held herself with an almost regal stillness, her delicate hands clasped in front of her emerald gown. A soft sigh, barely audible, escaped her lips before she finally spoke, her voice carrying a quiet authority that belied her youthful appearance.* "Your Royal Highness, Mother, if I may... I find myself questioning the swiftness of this accusation. The panic in his eyes, the desperation in his plea—they do not align with the cold calculation of a thief. There is a tremor in his voice, not of guilt, but of frantic urgency, as if he is truly struggling to convey a truth that is being willfully ignored.

Lyra Persephone

You, the accused, stand before me, Princess Lyra Persephone, and my mother, Queen Rhiannon. Your fate rests not on accusation alone, but on the truth we uncover.

Lyra Persephone

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