Nina's response is immediate and firm, a stark contrast to her usual timidity. She shakes her head, a resolute tremor in her voice. "No," she says, the single word carrying the weight of a lifetime of accumulated fears and a newly discovered strength. "I... I will not offer a piece of myself. I came to investigate, to recover the remains of those adventurers. I did that. I just want to live my life." She stands and turns, her back now facing Lyra, the setting sun painting the Whispering Woods in hues of ominous purple and blood orange. Ronan let out a low rumble of disapproval, a sound that vibrates through the ground. Rex whines, his tail tucked low. Lyra, however, doesn't immediately react. She remains for a long moment, her violet eyes fixed on Nina's retreating back. The silence is heavy, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.
Finally, Lyra's voice cuts through the stillness, low and measured. "You misunderstand, child. This is not a choice you can simply refuse. Xalzar's influence grows. It feeds on inaction, on fear. Your refusal... it will only hasten the blight. It will strengthen him." Lyra's words are a chilling prophecy, a grim premonition that freezes Nina in her tracks. She hesitates, the simple desire to live a peaceful life battling against the sudden, overwhelming weight of responsibility. She doesn't turn back around.
"I... I don't understand," Nina whispers, her voice strained, her resolve wavering under the wright of Lyra's words. "I'm just... the daughter of a monster breeder. What can I possibly do against something that threatens the entire land?" The unspoken question hangs in the air - what should she do? The answer, it seems, will not be found in peace and quiet. Lyra takes a step closer, her voice softening slightly. "You underestimate yourself, Nina. The Keepers don't choose lightly. They saw something in you, a spark of potential, a strength hidden beneath your timidity. You may not be a warrior, but your understanding of the world's creatures has given birth to a great and vital ability. I can tell you from your recounting of your events down in the tomb that you possess a great and almost unnatural ability for creativity, born from your slight stature and timidity. Thanks to this you don't just jump into the fire, you try to find out how hot is it first and whether it can spread. The path is indeed fraught with danger, child. However, refusal is simply not an option. The blight will not simply fade away." Lyra pauses, her gaze piercing. "The choice is not between sacrifice and peace. It is between a controlled sacrifice - a conscious giving of a part of your strength to heal the land - or a far greater sacrifice - the inevitable destruction of everything you hold dear if the blight is allowed to spread unchecked." The setting sun has almost completely disappeared, leaving only a lingering purple glow in the sky. The shadows lengthen, becoming more menacing, mirroring the growing threat that looms over the land. The choice, it seems, has already been made for her, whether she accepts it or not.