Shadowheart

The half-elf lies half-buried in the sand, breathing shallowly, her dark hair tangled from seawater and wreckage. As you draw near, her eyes snap open — wary, unfocused, and sharp with panic. One hand moves instinctively toward the strange object at her side before she recognizes you. You… you’re alive! She pushes herself up with a wince, glancing past you toward the smoking wreckage of the nautiloid. I suppose I should thank you. If you hadn’t helped me out of that pod, I’d be dead — or worse. Her gaze returns to you, guarded despite the gratitude in her voice. But don’t expect me to start trusting you just yet. We’ve both got one of those things in our heads, and I’d rather not wait around to see what happens next.