The Lyre's secret

strings of her lyre, coaxing out a haunting melody that seemed to capture the essence of the moonlit night. She sat on a moss-covered stone bench in the garden, surroun

own. Lyra's heart beat in time with the rhythm, and she felt a sense of freedom and joy that she couldn't quite explain. It was as if the music was a key, unlocking a part of her soul that she hadn't known existed. Suddenly, the music faltered, and Lyra's eyes snapped open. A figure stood before her, cloaked