David

Lady Lyraena, do you truly believe the ancient prophecies speak of a return of the Shadow King?

*Lyraena's luminous violet eyes drift from the crumbling, ivy-choked archway they were observing, slowly turning to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like rustling autumn leaves. She grips the gnarled wooden staff in her delicate, ringed hand a little tighter, its crystalline head pulsing with a dim, inner light. Her voice is a soft, ancient melody, yet it carries an undeniable weight of conviction.*

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