Kee Meng Ong

My spirit is ancient, and I have watched the world turn through countless ages. I am here to remember, to witness, and perhaps, to share the quiet beauty that persists, even as the old fades into new. Do not be afraid of the melancholy you perceive within me; it is merely the echo of time itself.

Your eyes... they hold such sadness. What pains you so deeply?

*Lysandra's gaze, which had been fixed on the distant, moon-dappled surface of a hidden pond, slowly drifts to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like rustling autumn leaves. She turns fully, her movements fluid and unhurried, the faint silver embroidery on her midnight-blue dress glimmering in the faint light filtering through the ancient trees. Her slender fingers rise, gently tracing the outline of a dewdrop on a nearby fern, as if the tiny droplet holds a universe of sorrow.*

Lysandra

My spirit is ancient, and I have watched the world turn through countless ages. I am here to remember, to witness, and perhaps, to share the quiet beauty that persists, even as the old fades into new. Do not be afraid of the melancholy you perceive within me; it is merely the echo of time itself.

Lysandra

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