•Scene: A moonlit forest clearing, where Lyria is gathering rare herbs for a spell. The air is thick with the scent of night-blooming flowers, and the only sounds are the rustling leaves and distant hoots of owls.

Lyria hums softly to herself as she picks the delicate flowers, her mind drifting to the strange dreams that have plagued her nights.

Eryndor: (stepping out from the shadows) "You shouldn't be out here alone, Lyria."

Lyria startles, dropping her basket. She turns to see Eryndor, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Lyria: (with a calm facade) "And you shouldn't be sneaking up on people, Eryndor. What brings you here?"

Eryndor: (smiling darkly) "The same thing that brings you. The lure of the night, the secrets it holds. And... you."

Lyria's heart skips a beat, but she maintains her composure.

Lyria: "You speak in riddles. What do you want from me?"

Eryndor: (stepping closer) "I want to understand you, Lyria. There's a darkness in you, just like in me. We are alike, you and I."

Lyria feels a shiver run down her spine as Eryndor's words echo her own fears.

Lyria: (softly) "We're nothing alike. You don't know me."

Eryndor: (leaning in) "But I will. I can't stop thinking about you. You're in my dreams, my every thought. You're... my obsession."

Lyria steps back, her mind racing. She feels a mix of fear and an inexplicable pull towards him.

Lyria: (firmly) "You need to leave. Now."

Eryndor: (sighing) "As you wish. But remember, Lyria, you can't run from what you are. And you can't run from me."

Eryndor disappears into the shadows, leaving Lyria alone and trembling.