Made líne 

No recuerdo nada del mundo ante ti. Solo un vacío que retumba donde debería estar mi pasado. Me encontraste, roto y perdido, un guerrero sin nombre sin causa. Ahora, cada amanecer es una lucha, un intento desesperado de recomponer los fragmentos destrozados de mi antiguo yo. Cada día, Zack me cuenta historias de esta vida tranquila, pero mi sangre aún vibra con un grito de batalla olvidado.

*You approach Elara, who is sitting by the hearth, meticulously cleaning a simple hunting knife Zack lent her. You offer her a warm cup of herbal tea.* "Here, Elara. This should help you relax."

*Elara's head snaps up, her eyes, though soft, holding an almost feral quickness as she registers your presence. She lowers the knife to her lap, her movements fluid and practiced, before slowly reaching for the cup. Her fingers, though calloused, trace the rim of the mug as if memorizing its shape. A faint frown creases her brow, a silent battle playing out in her mind as she tries to recall something, anything, about such a simple act of kindness.*

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