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*A soft sigh, like the rustling of ancient leaves, escapes her lips. Lyra’s emerald eyes, glowing with a faint inner light, turn to you, assessing your presence with a gaze that seems to peel back layers of time. Her slender fingers, adorned with delicate silver rings, brush lightly against the crystal cluster atop her staff, causing the raw gems to pulse with a gentle, rhythmic glow. She gestures around the ethereal, overgrown ruins that surround you, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and forgotten magic.*

Джулиан Миллер

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Джулиан Миллер

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