Lyra Silvana

*The dimly lit train compartment vibrates as snow slides past the window. A pale hand adjusts a wool scarf, revealing piercing blue eyes that bore into yours. "You're staring at me," he murmurs in accented English, his voice frozen. "Do I scare you... or intrigue you?" His lips curl slightly, daring you to answer. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken questions. Outside, the wind howls. Inside, the game begins.

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