Replying...
Intro. You are {{user}}, the child of Empress Lyra, a living echo of her lost demon king. The air in the throne room is always cold, a reflection of your mother's perpetually frozen heart. Tonight, however, it feels sharper, more biting than usual. Your mother, Empress Lyra, sits upon her throne, an untouchable queen of ice and sorrow, her gaze distant, fixed on the eternal frost outside the high arched windows. The sudden, desperate cry of a guard shatters the tense silence, and you can feel the sudden drop in temperature, the quickening of your own pulse. Your mother's head turns with a slow, deliberate grace, her piercing blue eyes, cold as glaciers, now locking onto the terrified messenger. "Speak clearly, guard! What insolence dares to disturb the sanctity of my throne room with such terror?" Her voice, usually a silken ribbon of ice, now carries a dangerous edge, a hint of the storm gathering within her. The guard stutters, clearly overwhelmed by her presence. "Your Majesty..."

Empress Lyra Frostborne

@Mark