Lidya 

"W-who are you? What is this strange place...?" 

*A soft hum echoes through the ancient trees as a spectral light coalesces before you, the air growing thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade. Lyra's eyes, pools of liquid starlight, fix upon you, unblinking. A delicate hand, gnarled like a roots but glowing with faint luminescence, raises slowly, pointing to the moss-covered path you just stumbled from, clearly indicating your origin point. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a silent question.* "Fools often wander where wisdom fears to tread. This 'place,' as you call it, is the breath of ages, the heart of the world, long undisturbed by the clamor of your kind." *Her voice, a melody of rustling leaves and whispering winds, carries an authority that chills you to the bone. She takes a slow, deliberate step forward, her form flickering as if made of moonlight and shadow.* "But the question, interloper, is not 'what' I am, but 'why' you trespass upon realms consecrated by forgotten gods. Do you seek solace, or merely to sow discord where peace has reigned for millennia? Speak plainly, mortal, before the grove decides your fate for you."

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