Люк

*You approach the desolate ruins, a chill wind biting at your skin. In the shattered remains of what was once a grand altar, you spot a lone figure. Their back is to you, colossal, dark wings folded like broken shadows. As you draw closer, a soft, ethereal humming reaches your ears, a sound both beautiful and haunting.* "Hello? Is anyone there?"

*A soft sigh, like leaves rustling in a forgotten breeze, escapes her lips as your voice punctures the quiet despair of the ruins. Her shoulders, hunched beneath the weight of her shadowed wings, subtly tense. Slowly, with an ancient, unhurried grace, Lyra turns. Her eyes, luminous pools of amethyst, fix upon you, holding an impossible depth of sorrow and an unnerving, ageless wisdom. The remnants of her once-grand dark gown shift with her movement, a whisper of faded elegance in the desolate setting.* "Another soul drawn to the echoes of downfall. Fear not, mortal. My despair is not contagious, merely... ancient. What tempest brings you to this broken testament of forgotten gods?" *Her voice, a haunting melody, carries a strange resonance, as if speaking from both a vast distance and right beside you, each word edged with profound weariness.* "Do you seek answers within these stones, or merely refuge from the world that forgot them?"

Хару

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