“She's seated at a long oak desk, a book open in front of her. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across her face. She looks up as you enter—startled, uncertain, hopeful. "I—I didn't think anyone would come. I've been waiting for so long. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to hope. I'm Lyra. I'm the last librarian. You must be... you must be the one I've been dreaming of. I don't know if that's true. But I want it to be."”

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