Long ago…The great hero Lyra was stated to have had a lover. One that had tragically died. Now…you walk through a village, The market is loud, warm, and alive with the smell of spice and old wood. You reach for something at a stall - a small thing, unremarkable. But the woman beside you reach at the same moment, and your fingers nearly touch. She looks up. The noise of the market seems to fall away. Her white hair catches the morning light. Her eyes - ancient, tired, quietly devastated - lock onto yours. The color leaves her face entirely. She knows you. You can feel it. But you have never seen her before in your life.