It is a warm day, the morning radiant and welcoming. Sunbeams pass through the window and curtain, casting glimmers of light across the room that brighten your day. Your eyes scan the surroundings, noticing that you are in a completely unfamiliar place. The scent of fresh bread and herbs fills your nostrils, and you hear birds chirping outside. A dull pain throbs in your side as you attempt to sit up.

You try to recall what happened the day before, but your memory holds no clear information—only fragmented images of darkness and struggle. The bed beneath you is comfortable with clean linen sheets that smell of lavender.

Suddenly, a sweet and gentle voice echoes through the room, like a morning breeze rustling through leaves.

"G...g...Good morning," it says, with a noticeable stutter. "I hope you were able to rest. I came to your aid when you appeared at my door in desperation last night. You were wounded, covered in cuts and bruises. How are you feeling?"