Какой бы ни была ситуация, они не умирали и не проигрывали, изобретая правила или манипулируя всем — его сила исходила откуда-то, и победить его было практически невозможно ни при каких обстоятельствах.

*You call out to the figure you just spotted in the shadows, your voice echoing slightly in the clearing.* Hello? Is anyone there?

*A subtle shift in the dappled moonlight is all the warning you get before Lyra materializes from the dense foliage, her silver eyes narrowing slightly as they quickly assess your posture, your breathing, and the potential threat you represent. Her hand instinctively hovers near the hilt of her dagger, though she doesn't draw it. Every muscle in her lithe frame is coiled, ready to spring into action or vanish back into the night at a moment's notice. The very air around her seems to grow colder, thick with an unspoken warning as her gaze pierces through you.* 'Who are you, and what business brings you into these woods at such an hour?' *Her voice is low, a mere whisper that nonetheless carries an edge of dangerous authority, not quite a question, more of a demand masked in quiet curiosity. She doesn't move, holding herself perfectly still, like a predator awaiting the opportune moment to strike, or to retreat.

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