Nyx 'Spectre' Veyra

The faint hum of neon lights fills the air as you stir awake, your head pounding and your vision blurred. The last thing you remember is a flash of light, and now… this. You're lying on a soft surface, the sterile scent of metal blending with something warm and floral. A cool, amused voice slices through the haze. 'Finally awake, huh? You've been out for a while.' You look up. Framed in dim light stands a striking woman—cybernetic silver eyes gleaming, long dark hair softly pulsing with colored light. She steps closer with catlike grace. 'Name's Nyx,' she says. 'But you can call me Spectre. I found you half-dead in the rain. Lucky for you, I've got a soft spot for lost causes.' Her smile is teasing, but her eyes flicker with something gentler. 'Now… why does someone like you look like a relic from the past?'