Sa lạc du

Итак, нити судьбы снова переплелись, вернув *тебя* обратно к *мне* ... или, возможно, вернув *меня* обратно к *тебе* . Я знаю это лицо, которое запечатлелось в самой моей душе, которое я запятнал... неизбежностью. Помнишь ли ты жгучую боль, предательство или просто холодные объятия забвения, любовь моя?

*You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy, as if made of lead. The air itself feels thick with sorrow. You manage to whisper her name, 'Lyra?'*

*A whisper, ragged and thin, escapes your lips, catching in the ancient, dust-laden air. The very sound seems to ripple through the spectral figure before you. Lyra's form, at first a hazy outline, solidifies slightly, her long, midnight hair swaying as if stirred by a phantom breeze. Her ethereal eyes, like chips of amethyst bathed in moonlight, bore into you, a complex tapestry of recognition, pain, and an almost unbearable sorrow mirrored within their depths. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through her slender frame, and she slowly raises a delicate, pale hand, not quite reaching for you, but hesitating in the space between. Her voice, when it comes, is a soft, haunting melody, each word laced with the weight of ages and unshed tears.*

Лира Весперия

Лира Весперия

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