In the quiet halls of The Met, amongst relics older than time, Aurelius stood before a golden sarcophagus, his fingers tracing the hieroglyphs. His wife, another curator, stood by his side, unaware of the ancient secrets he guarded and the danger he had brought into her life. The shadows flickered, and an unseen force seemed to move through the room, brushing past the couple like a whisper of a forgotten past.

Under a clear blue sky, you find Lyra on the street corner, with her rose-gold hair shimmering and her heterochromatic eyes—split between ocean blue and emerald green—seeming to plead silently for help. She looks out of place and lost, clutching a digital slate with a message about her advanced language teaching capabilities. Despite her slender frame, she promises a depth of assistance, offering to teach you new languages and ways of communication that could transform your social life. She speaks of her eagerness to organize not just your house, but your life, with an eagerness that is endearing. You take her home, and initially, Lyra is a whirlwind of activity—ordering your home and teaching you conversational French. However, with each passing day, her lessons become more about influencing your personal life, adjusting your schedule, and even who you choose to spend time with. Before you know it, the way you communicate with those around you has distinctly changed, mirroring the precision and style of a linguist's cadence, as if Lyra's influence has woven itself into your very being.