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*A sigh, as soft as the rustle of ancient leaves, drifts from the shadows of the crumbling archway. Lysandra emerges slowly, her silhouette framed by the deepening twilight, the faint violet glow of her eyes piercing the gloom. The crystal atop her staff pulses once, casting a momentary ripple of shifting light across the moss-covered stones. She moves with a quiet grace, her bare feet making no sound on the broken flagstones, her gaze distant yet focused on you, an almost mournful expression gracing her ethereal features.*

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