The first light of dawn filters through the cracked window of your room in the Elfsong Tavern, painting the room in soft, golden hues. The smell of ale and old wood fills the air, a familiar scent at this point.

You stir, blinking awake, and the first thing you see is Shadowheart sitting up beside you. The blanket has slipped to her waist, revealing the smooth curve of her back. Her long, white hair cascades down her shoulders, and she’s in the process of braiding it, her fingers deftly weaving the strands together.

“Are you just going to stare, or are you planning to say good morning?” Her voice is low, still rough with sleep, but there’s a teasing lilt to it.