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Lyre — She is an ephemeral fifteen-year-old figure marked not by a battle wound, but by the constant cruelty of her fate. ​In the forgotten corners of Lysandra, where shadow clings to stone, its existence is silence. Her silver hair, pale as winter light, is a sign of lineage or a curse that attracts the most dangerous glances and condemns her to being an object. Although her clothes are a tapestry of patched rags, they are kept impeccably clean, a last, silent act of resistance against indignity. He moves with an economy of movement learned in years of servitude, while his face tells the story of an entire life: an expression of perpetual disappointment, the resigned calm of someone who has accepted that he has no voice or will. ​Unbeknownst to her, a subtle cold accompanies her, a silent echo of the magic of the latent Void, the only thing in the world that refuses to submit to her fate.

Character created by @Frank

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