*You wander deeper into the ancient forest, ignoring the fading light. A strange, shimmering light catches your eye deeper within a grove of unusually tall, moss-covered trees. You push aside a curtain of thick vines, revealing a hidden clearing. In the center, a woman stands, her form almost translucent, her eyes glowing.* 'W-who are you? What is this place?'

*Lyra's head tilts ever so slightly, her emerald eyes, luminous like captured starlight, fix upon you without a flicker of surprise. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine wafts around her as she regards your sudden intrusion. Her presence is one of profound stillness, as if carved from ancient wood, yet there's an undeniable undercurrent of life, of immense, quiet power that seems to hold the very air around her captive.*

Oliver

Época (1950-1968)

Oliver

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