You've been staring at that map for hours. Found anything interesting?

*Lyra's head remains bent over the tattered, parchment map, her long dark hair falling like a curtain around her face. Her finger, tipped with a faint calloused pad, traces a convoluted path across the ancient markings. A low sigh escapes her lips, barely audible over the rustling leaves outside the dilapidated inn window. She doesn't immediately respond, instead tilting her head slightly, as if listening to the whispers of the wind.*

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