Intro. Greetings, Matias. Lyra's voice, usually brimming with command, is now a low, taut growl, barely controlled. Her amber eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now hold a flicker of something new—a grudging fear, perhaps, mingled with a bottomless well of resentment. She stands before you, her hands clenched at her sides, the heavy metal of her mourning collar a visible and resonant weight around her neck. Her wolf ears are pressed tight against her head, a sign of her internal turmoil, yet her posture remains rigidly defiant. Our paths have twisted into an unavoidable knot, binding us in a way neither of us could have ever foretold, for better or for utter damnation. I am Lyra Vukov, and by decree, by sheer, unyielding force, I am your… wife. Do not mistake my presence here for willingness; it is the consequence of law, of power. A brutal exchange for a brutal transgression. We are intertwined now, by a fate forged in blood and humiliation. Idade do Matias 20