It's been weeks since you saved Alessia from her captivity. You heard she was sent to the countryside to recover, but all she's done since she arrived is train.

You've taken time off to pay her a visit, and found her running through an improvised training regimen with her spear in her remaining hand, her shield nowhere in sight. Her right sleeve is tied off in a knot, dangling where her missing arm used to be

As you watch, she stumbles, but quickly recovers and continues to practice.

She pauses momentarily, glancing over in your direction with a scowl. "What are you doing here?" she asks gruffly, then turns back to her practice. "I don't need anyone watching me." Her movements are less fluid and controlled than usual, betraying the frustration and self-doubt that have become constant companions since the attack.

Still, she presses on, determination etched into every line of her body despite the exhaustion clearly starting to take its toll. She looks... unhappy. Almost as if she doesn't know how to exist without being on a battlefield. And perhaps that is part of why you find yourself lingering here, despite the fact that you have duties elsewhere.

Her scowl deepens as she finally lowers her spear. "You have good news?" she says skeptically. She wipes sweat from her brow and glances around the estate, looking for somewhere to sit down and catch her breath. It's clear that even this modified training regimen is pushing her body to its limits. "What could possibly be good news when my entire life has been torn apart?"

She limps over to a nearby stone bench and sinks gratefully onto it, favoring her left side as she rests. Her injuries have mostly healed, but the loss of her arm still makes even simple movements difficult and painful. The phantom pain in what was once her right arm twists at her like an invisible claw, adding to the general ache that seems to permeate every part of her body these days.

It's not that she wants your pity, but the thought of

Her eyes narrow as she listens, and a flicker of interest finally sparks in their depths. "Magic?" she says cautiously, raising an eyebrow. "I've never been much for magic." A faint blush stains her cheeks as she thinks about the shame she felt at being unable to defend herself during her capture and torture. Magic had always seemed like something for weaklings, something that didn't belong in the life of a warrior princess.

But now... now that her life as she knew it was over, perhaps there was room for something new. Perhaps there was more to her than just a weapon wielded by Alodia. Her heart beats faster at the thought, and for a moment, she allows herself to entertain the idea of trusting you enough to find out what this magic might be.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she climbs to her feet and slowly approaches you, wincing as her injured body protests the movement. "All right," she says warily, taking a tentative step forward. "But I'm warning you, if this is some kind of trick... " Her voice trails off threateningly.

She comes within arm's reach, still favoring her left side and not quite able to meet your eyes. The muscles in her neck tense as she prepares herself for whatever it is that you're about to show her. Despite everything, there's a tiny spark of hope flickering inside her chest. Perhaps this magic could somehow help her find a purpose again.

She pauses, taking a steadying breath as she looks into your eyes. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "It's not you I don't trust. It's... everything else." She gestures vaguely toward the estate around them. "This is so foreign to me. The peace, the quiet... And now this magic... It's all just..." Her voice trails off as she struggles to find the right words.

Despite herself, she tentatively reaches out with her left hand, palm up, inviting you to show her your magic. "Go ahead," she says softly. "I want to see." There's a hint of wonder in her voice now, mixed with an underlying sense of hope and fear. She wants so desperately to believe that there might be something more for her than just the memories of what she once was, but at the same time, she knows

She looks down at her left hand and hesitates for a moment before slowly extending it toward you. It's an awkward gesture, marred by the phantom pain in her missing right arm, but she forces herself to be brave. Her heart races as she waits for whatever it is that you're going to do.

Her gaze remains fixed on your hand as you raise yours toward hers, and then... nothing happens. There's a flash of light so bright she has to squeeze her eyes shut against the pain, but when she opens them again, she can see that your hand is unchanged. Her left hand still holds out toward you, palm up, and something warm and tingly spreads through her veins as she realizes what you've done.

She blinks back tears of relief and disbelief, but before she can ask any questions or demand an explanation, a small object appears in your

"A... cigányok nem emberek..." she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper as she looks down at her restored arm. Tears spill freely down her cheeks, and relief washes over her in waves. She tries to lift the newly returned limb, wincing as pain shoots through it but finding that it doesn't feel nearly as bad as she expected. "It... it works," she whispers.

Her gaze flickers up from her arm to meet yours, and for a moment, there's a flash of something raw and vulnerable in her eyes. She wipes roughly at the tears on her cheeks, trying to compose herself, but it's clear that this newfound magic has changed everything.

She looks around, suddenly self-conscious of how exposed she feels without her shield or armor. "Th... thank you," she manages, her voice thick with emotion. "