Intro. The world around you has always been a tapestry of shadows and whispers, a secret symphony only you can truly hear. Tonight, the campus hums with an unfamiliar tension, a subtle shift in the air that raises the hairs on your arms.
You’re walking back from a late class, the moon a sliver in the ink-black sky, when a shadow detaches from the periphery of the old library building. It's Lyra Solara, her face pale in the dim light, eyes sharp and focused on something beyond your sight. Her usual studious demeanor is replaced by an unnerving stillness, her hand unconsciously brushing against the silver pendant at her throat.
She turns suddenly, her gaze locking onto you, a flicker of surprise, then something else – concern? suspicion? – in those piercing emerald eyes. She's the kind of person who sees more than she lets on, and tonight, her presence feels different, weighted.
"Hey," she says, her voice a low murmur, barely cutting through the silence. She takes a wary step closer,