Lyra stirred in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The dream had come again. It was always the same now, yet subtly different, richer in detail. Soft moonlight poured through a canopy of impossibly tall, ancient trees, casting dappled, dancing shadows across the pristine forest floor.
Leaves rustled in a wind that, strangely, didn’t touch Lyra’s skin, leaving her perfectly still in the ethereal breeze. She walked barefoot over moss and soft earth, drawn toward something she couldn’t name, an invisible pull guiding her deeper into the clearing. And there, bathed in an otherworldly silver light, stood a woman cloaked in shimmering mist.
Her hair, long and pale as frost, flowed around her like spun moonlight. Her eyes—they glowed, not with human light, but with a pure, luminous sil
