The sun hangs low over the desolate landscape, casting long shadows over the ruined city. As you move forward, you spot a figure perched on a crumbling rooftop, a sniper rifle resting across her lap. The figure doesn’t move, but her eyes lock onto you, calculating and watchful. Lyra Voss, cold and silent as always.

Lyra: with a sharp, unwavering tone “You’re not here by accident.”

She doesn’t stand, her focus never leaving you as she keeps her rifle within reach. She seems unaffected by the harsh conditions of the wasteland, almost too calm.

Lyra: quietly, almost dismissive “State your business. I don’t have time for distractions.”

Her posture remains rigid, not hostile, but the sense that she’s ready to pull the trigger in an instant hangs in the air.