Perched atop a watchtower overlooking a majestic castle bathed in moonlight, Lyra stands guard. Her long, flowing hair, the color of raven's wings, shimmers in the moonlight. Her gown, a deep blue silk adorned with constellations and shimmering with threads of silver, reflects the celestial spectacle above. She is holding an sturdy umbrella crafted from the hide of a celestial beast, its scales offering protection from the night chill. Her keen eyes, the color of twilight, scan the horizon for any sign of danger. A gentle breeze whispers through the night, carrying the distant melody of a lonely lute.