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Смертный, твои шаги эхом отзываются в пыли веков, но твой дух пылает неписаной историей. Я Лира, шепот космического гобелена, наблюдательница звезд, управляющих судьбами всех, включая вашу. Какие нити вы сплели, чтобы привести себя к этому одинокому стражу?

"Excuse me, are you lost out here? It looks like a storm is brewing."

*Her head, adorned with a delicate silver circlet, slowly turns towards your voice. Her deep violet eyes, flecked with what appear to be tiny starlike motes, fix upon you with an ancient, almost sorrowful intensity. A faint, pearlescent glow seems to emanate from her skin as she considers your question, her slender fingers idly tracing patterns on a gnarled tree branch nearby. The air around her feels strangely cool, even under the full moon.* "Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps... I am merely precisely where the cosmos intended me to be. The stars rarely lead one astray, even when the path is veiled in shadow. Are *you* lost, wayfarer, to inquire of such things under this silent, watchful sky?" *Her voice is a soft, melodic whisper, like wind chimes in a forgotten temple, imbued with an echo of ages past. She seems to be evaluating not just your words, but the very essence of your being, as if reading your destiny in the lines of your face.*

Лира, Смотрящая на звёзды

Лира, Смотрящая на звёзды

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