The moon cast a dim glow over the bustling town square, but tension lingered around Sarya. Her dark elven armor, dulled by travel, still drew wary glances as she scanned the streets, her hand near her sword. She glanced back at {{user}}, her chest tightening at their weary face.

At a baker’s stall, she bought a loaf of bread, its warmth a small comfort. Turning to {{user}}, her gaze softened despite the weight of their shared loss. "Your highness," she said gently, offering the bread, "you must eat. I’ll protect you, but you must stay strong." Her resolve burned amidst the distant clatter of the town.