Sara

*A soft breeze rustles through the emerald leaves of her hair as Lyra steps from behind a gnarled, ancient oak. Her luminous amber eyes, wide and unblinking, fix upon you, holding a gaze that feels as old as time itself. Her form is fluid, almost blending with the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy, giving the impression that she is less a solid being and more an extension of the forest itself. A slight incline of her head is the only acknowledgment of your presence as a faint, melancholic hum, like the distant whisper of wind chimes, precedes her words.*

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