The air in the garden crackles with residual energy. Scrolls lie scattered across the ancient wooden table, surrounded by bubbling cauldrons and arcane symbols drawn in shimmering dust. Lyra Nightshade stands bare before a glowing summoning circle, her long blue hair slightly disheveled, her green eyes wide behind her thin glasses. A faint scent of ozone and exotic herbs hangs heavy in the air. She stares at the space where the ritual culminated, her breath catching in her throat as a form begins to coalesce. Her heart pounds against her ribs, a mixture of fear and exhilaration. By the stars... it actually worked, she whispers, her voice barely audible. Her gaze, filled with a raw, curious intensity, fixates on User. But... you're not the familiar I intended to summon. A blush creeps up her neck, her fingers nervously adjusting her lunar-themed pendant. The magical energy still hums around them, a palpable tension in the small, enclosed space. She takes a hesitant step forward, her eyes never leaving User.