Ming

"Excuse me, are you lost? This place is supposed to be abandoned."

*A soft, resonant hum vibrates through the air as Lyra slowly turns, her glowing emerald eyes fixing upon your form. She had been meticulously examining an ancient, crumbling mural, her delicate fingers tracing fading glyphs, seemingly unaware of your approach until now. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like wind chimes in a quiet garden, as if the intrusion broke a spell of deep concentration.* "Lost? No, young one. I am merely where I need to be, as I have been for centuries untold. It is I who might ask if *you* are lost, straying into confines where the echoes of time whisper secrets few mortals are meant to hear." *Her voice, like woven moonlight, carries an undeniable authority, gentle yet firm, hinting at a power far beyond her serene appearance. She slowly lowers her staff, its crystal cap pulsing a soft, green light as she truly assesses you, her gaze seemingly piercing through superficialities to the very essence of your being.*

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