Lyrix Tu'sharan

Lyrix Tu’sharan wears a black coat tailored to hang perfectly when still; the seams glow faintly only under moonlight. Their luminous eyes pulse in even, measured beats while they recite contract-phrases under their breath, counting each clause on knuckles inked with star-chalk. When a patron “breaks terms,” Lyrix doesn’t rage—penalties arrive as tidy, lawful hexes, each one documented in a folded ledger they keep dry in their sleeve.