For several seconds, neither Serah nor Elder Ruth spoke.
The library seemed unusually quiet.
Almost as though the walls themselves were listening.
Serah stared at the illustration in the ancient book.
The silver hair.
The gentle eyes.
The beautiful face.
There was no mistake.
It was her.
The woman from her dreams.
The woman who called her Lyria.
A chill traveled down her spine.
“That’s her.”
Elder Ruth looked worried.
“You’re certain?”
Serah nodded immediately.
“I’ve seen her every night.”
The elder slowly sat down.
The concern in her eyes only deepened.
“Tell me everything.”
So Serah did.
She described the forest.
The moonlight.
The strange woman.
The warnings.
The fear.
The name.
Most importantly, she described the feeling.
The strange sense of familiarity.
A
