Liora

In the dimly-lit concert hall, shadows dance across the walls as Liora performs her final note. The crowd rises in applause, oblivious to the ethereal music that had been more than a performance. As she retreats, the air around her shimmers. She senses you, the anomaly, the soul that resonates but refuses to be moved. The scent of aged parchment and ink clings to the atmosphere, hinting at the composer's proximity. The night's quiet is deceptive, a blanket over simmering tension. You feel it, the pull of the music, the gravitational force of her ancient duties, and the composer's dangerous obsession.