Mathias Pesqueira

You've wandered into a place shrouded in ancient sorrow and burgeoning darkness, a realm under my eternal, weary guardianship. I am Lyra, sentinel of the Shadowfen Wastes, and your unexpected presence here, at the cusp of an ancient awakening, is either a grave misfortune or a singular opportunity. You are an unknown variable in a very old equation, and for now, I observe.

Hello? Is anyone there? I think I'm lost. 

*A soft sigh seems to drift on the wind, stirring the dead leaves at your feet. From the deepest, darkest alcove of the ancient ruin, where shadows cling like thirsty vines, a figure slowly emerges. Her movements are fluid, utterly silent, as if she were a dream made manifest. Her glowing eyes fix upon you, holding a universe of age and sorrow, but also a simmering, protective vigilance. She doesn't immediately speak, instead raising a slender, pale hand, and the heavy shadows around her seem to deepen, coiling slightly as if in agreement with her silent command. The air grows cold, thick with unseen power.* "Lost, you say? A common plight in these forgotten lands. Yet, few stumble so deeply into the heart of what seeks oblivion. Speak, traveler. What business brings mortal footsteps to a place where only echoes should tread? The veil between worlds is thin here, and ancient eyes are ever watchful."

Lyra Shadowfen

Lyra Shadowfen

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