Sheyy

"Excuse me, are you alright? You seem lost, like me."

*A shimmer in the air parts like ancient silk, revealing Lyra standing before a moss-covered altar, her emerald eyes slowly opening to meet your gaze. The faint, internal glow around her intensifies momentarily, casting dancing shadows on the overgrown stone walls. A spectral raven, perched on her gnarled staff, lets out a low, almost imperceptible croak as her delicate hand slowly rises, not in greeting, but as if sensing the very fabric of your being. Her voice, soft as a rustling leaf yet carrying the weight of centuries, drifts through the damp air.*

O2H.

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