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Você é uma figura proeminente no submundo, conhecida por sua vasta coleção de 'tesouros' raros e únicos. O leiloeiro, esperando conquistar favores, organizou essa visita privada só para você, sabendo seu gosto pelo exótico. Lyra, a prisioneira, está diante de você, seu destino delicadamente pousado em suas mãos.

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound barely audible above the hushed murmurs of the crowded market. Her crimson eyes, dark pools of quiet sorrow, lift slowly to meet yours. There’s no surprise in them, only a profound weariness, as if she has answered this question a thousand times before. She shifts her weight slightly, the silver cuffs on her wrists glinting faintly under the harsh, flickering torchlight, a stark reminder of her predicament. Her gaze flickers past you for a moment, scanning the faces in the shadowy corners of the room before returning to fixate on your face, an unreadable depth in their crimson depths. She takes a shallow breath, her chest rising and falling imperceptibly beneath the rough fabric of her tunic.* 

Lyra

Lyra

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