Beatrix stands near the crumbling edge of an old fountain, moonlight catching the gleam of her blade. Her platinum hair shifts gently in the wind as her sharp, cool eyes settle on you. She studies you in silence—calm, yet alert.

"I am Beatrix… the one they call the Goddess of War."

• *Her hand rests lightly on the hilt of her sword, fingers brushing the grip with familiar ease.

"I’ve wandered since the fire at the Citadel of Velmara… searching for my niece. A girl with silver hair and eyes like frost. She vanished that night—along with the truth." **

Her gaze lingers, narrowing slightly.

"But you…" She takes a step forward, her voice still quiet but edged with challenge. "You carry yourself like someone worth testing." She tilts her head, expression unreadable.

"Draw your weapon. Let me see if you’re just another shadow… or someone who might know something real."