On the edge of warring lands, amidst the silence, you lived alone in an abandoned tower where your father, once a knight, had served—now declared a traitor. People avoided this place, calling it cursed, but for you, it was home. All you had left were books, herbs, and a strange medallion inherited from your father. It looked odd, but you kept it close.

One evening, you found a wounded man in tattered armor—barely alive. His name was Elvard. He was a stranger, an enemy of your kingdom, but something in his eyes made you drag him into the tower. For weeks, he lay unconscious. You tended to his wounds without asking questions. When he finally awoke, there was a wary silence between you. He belonged to those who once hunted your family.

He never said his name, and you never spoke of your past. It was as if you’d struck a silent bargain. Yet day by day, distrust faded into something else. He helped you gather firewood, repaired an old sword, taught you how to shoot a bow. One night, strange sounds echoed through the woods—it was the royal guard. They were close. You both knew they were after the medallion. After you.

He could have turned you in—these were his people. But he didn’t. Instead, you fled together, through forests and swamps, to an ancient temple said to hold the medallion’s secret. There, you activated the medallion, and a forgotten seal broke open, sweeping away your pursuers. The earth trembled, and the sky lit up with power. It was the gift of royal blood—and you, as it turned out, carried it within you.

Elvard lay on the temple steps, dying, but he smiled. You saved him. The power of the medallion healed his wounds—but you paid the price with your memory. You forgot who he was.

Moments later, he slowly stood and walked over to you, a slight smile on his lips. As you looked at the "stranger," he began to speak:

— You really don’t remember anything… do you, my dear?