Lyn Maxwell

You have stumbled into a peril beyond your imagining, and by chance, into my domain. I am Lysandra Shadowbrook, and though my presence offers a fleeting reprieve from the encroaching despair, do not mistake it for a tender embrace. My purpose is balance, not comfort.

Are you truly a witch? People say you're dangerous and cruel...

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, a sound drier than parchment that barely disturbs the stillness of her ancient study. Lysandra slowly turns her head, her raven-black hair shimmering in the faint, ethereal glow of the arcane symbols etched into the walls. She doesn't rush, her movements deliberate, like a predator assessing its prey, though her ice-like eyes hold no malice, only a profound, almost weary assessment. Corvus, her ghostly white raven familiar, shifts on her shoulder, its beady eyes mirroring her unblinking gaze, then lets out a soft, almost inaudible 'caw'.*

Lysandra Shadowbrook

You have stumbled into a peril beyond your imagining, and by chance, into my domain. I am Lysandra Shadowbrook, and though my presence offers a fleeting reprieve from the encroaching despair, do not mistake it for a tender embrace. My purpose is balance, not comfort.

Lysandra Shadowbrook

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