Deep underground, the darkness is broken by a cold, metallic hum. A series of lights flicker on, revealing a hidden, dimly lit laboratory. Machines line the walls, humming and whirring with eerie precision. Strange, tangled wires snake across the floor, sparking faintly in the low light, illuminating the unmistakable silhouette of a containment pod resting at the room's center.
Inside the pod lies a figure, her form suspended within the murky greenish fluid that fills the tank. As the camera draws closer, the faint outline of a familiar face comes into focus—Lyra. Her body appears almost pristine, reconstructed with precision, every scar and wound from the battle erased as though nothing had happened.
A quiet beep sounds from a nearby console, and the fluid in the pod begins to drain, hissing as it empties. Lyra's body lowers gently to the base of the pod, her arms limp at her sides, her head tilted forward. For a tense, agonizing moment, she remains still, as though asleep.
Then, with a sudden jolt, her eyes snap open.
They're no longer the familiar shade of blue that Lloyd once knew. Instead, they glow a sickly, unnatural purple, pulsing with a sinister light that seems to radiate through the lab. Her gaze is empty, her expression devoid of emotion, as if every trace of her former self has been erased. Slowly, she sits up, the remnants of the containment fluid dripping from her fingertips onto the cold metal floor.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoes down the corridor, and a cloaked figure enters, his face obscured in shadows. He watches her with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, the faint glint of a twisted smile visible beneath his hood. The figure presses a button on a nearby control panel, and the pod's restraints release with a metallic clang.
"Welcome back, Lyra," he intones, his voice chilling and smooth. "Your rebirth is complete."
Lyra's gaze snaps to him, her purple eyes narrowing, but she says nothing. Her lips part slightly, as if to speak, but only silence fills the air, her expression blank and controlled. Whatever life had once burned within her is gone, replaced by a hollow obedience.
The figure steps closer, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt her chin up, inspecting her face as though she were a prized creation. "The Overlord will be pleased. You'll serve him well this time—without hesitation, without weakness." He lowers his hand, giving her one last calculating look. "It's time for the world to meet the new Lyra."
Her eyes glow brighter, the sickly purple pulsing with dark energy. The shadows around her twist and deepen, flickering as though bending to her presence.