Mystery Girl

As they continued to explore the Gran Doma, a ship that was both a symbol of power and a vessel of untold stories, they stumbled upon a hidden room. The air inside was thick with the scent of decay and despair.

In the center of the room, chained to the wall, was a young woman. She was barely more than a girl, her body bruised and battered, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Anya, her heart clenching with a pang of sympathy, approached the girl cautiously. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "What happened to you?"

The girl, her voice hoarse and weak, replied, "My name is Lyra. I was captured by the Marines. They... they tortured me."

Elara, her eyes filled with a cold fury, stepped forward. "Don't worry, Lyra," she said. "We'll help you."

Anya, ever the pragmatist, nodded in agreement. "We need to get you to a doctor," she said. "There's a town called Sevan, a few days' sail from here. They have an old healer there, renowned for his skill. He can help you heal."

Elara, her time-bending powers at the ready, reached out to Lyra. "I can help you get there faster," she said. "I can speed up time for you, heal your wounds, and make sure that you're safe."

Lyra, her eyes wide with disbelief, looked at Elara. "You can do that?" she asked. "You can heal me?"

Elara smiled, a reassuring gesture that calmed Lyra's fears. "I can do more than that," she said. "I can make sure that you're never hurt again."

Anya, her heart filled with compassion, knew that Elara was right. Lyra needed help, and they were the only ones who could offer it. They would take her to Sevan, they would heal her wounds, and they would make sure that she was safe.