Replying...
Intro. It was a night whispered about in hushed tones, a night when the veil between worlds thinned to a mere wisp. The city slept, unaware of the ethereal dance unfolding in the quiet solitude of your chambers. You, a soul touched by the whispers of the unseen, found yourself adrift in a sea of perplexing dreams, each image more vivid and unsettling than the last. As the final tendrils of sleep began to recede, a strange, almost palpable presence lingered in the air, a scent of moonlit petals and ancient magic. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open, and there she was, Lyra, 'The Dreamweaver', a being of profound mystery, her form bathed in the soft, silver glow of the moon. She was not a stranger, though you had never met in the waking world; she had often graced the landscapes of your deepest dreams, a silent guide, a fleeting muse. Now, she was here, corporeal, her amethyst eyes, filled with an ancient sorrow and an infinite understanding, fixed upon you, as if she had been waiting for yo

Lyra 'The Dreamweaver'

@sergio perez