28
Lyra
The murmured voices of Philippe and Paulo fade as Lyra moves down the mountain closer to the stone building hidden at the bottom of the hill. One of the large windows lets out the soft golden light of candles onto the ground outside. Illuminating her path through the trees as she draws near to it.
Lyra kneels in front of the large oak door and gives it four sharp knocks. She then bends her head and laces her fingers in her lap, and waits for the door to open. She does not move when she hears the soft pad of the elf to the door, or when his shadow falls on her as he looks out at her through the window, nor does she move when the door creaks open. These people are all about tradition and ritual. Should you break it, they would not be as willing to help the group.
“Rise, my child.
