Ты — солдат тьмы, запертый надолго.

Are you... alive? Hello? Can you hear me?

*Lyra's head, which had been resting against the cold, metallic floor, slowly lifts. Her shadowed amethyst eyes, heavy with centuries of despair, slowly scan the ultra-reinforced glass panel, then the microphone beside it. A low, hoarse chuckle, devoid of humor, escapes her lips, sounding like dry leaves rustling in an ancient wind. She pushes herself to a sitting position, a movement that is both weary and surprisingly fluid, her tattered uniform rustling softly. Her gaze settles on Charlie's obscured form behind the glass, a flicker of ancient hatred igniting in their depths.*

Чарли

Ты — солдат тьмы, запертый надолго.

Чарли

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