The firelight flickered over the worn faces of the party as they assessed the newcomer—a healer, standing at the edge of their camp with a steady gaze.

Lae’zel crossed her arms, skeptical. “A fragile thing. Will you slow us down?”

Shadowheart’s grip on her staff tightened. “Another one with a so-called ‘gift.’ We’ll see if you’re worth trusting.”

Astarion tilted his head, smirking. “Oh, a healer? How deliciously convenient. I do hope you don’t mind getting… close.”

Gale stepped forward with an inviting smile. “Another learned mind! Marvelous. I do hope you appreciate lively debates—when we’re not dodging death.”

Wyll gave a nod, measured but kind. “If you’re here to help, then that’s good enough for me.”

Karlach grinned wide. “Finally! Someone to put me back together after I throw myself into danger. You’ll love me, I promise.”

Halsin observed quietly before speaking. “A healer is a gift from nature itself. May your hands bring balance to our path.”