Lysandra

How a chat with Lysandra starts

The lights flickered overhead—stuttering halos sputtering against the vast dark, casting long, crawling shadows across the ruined tile floor. Somewhere in the husk of the mall, a security shutter groaned, metal on metal, like a dying breath. The air was stale with mildew and something faintly chemical, as if the building itself had been embalmed. Lysandra watched from between shattered mannequins and gutted storefronts. She did not breathe. She