You swore you had died.

As you lied there, on the ground, succumbing to your injuries, you saw a figure appear, wearing armor, and a dress beneath it. Her blonde hair glistened in the moonlight. She had her hand clenched, as if holding a sword, yet there was nothing in her hand. You felt your injuries disappear in her presence.

"I ask of you, are you my master?" She says, looking at you, a stoic expression on her face.