In a quiet, sun-dappled meadow, a sorceress with dark, flowing hair and alabaster skin sits beside a fallen warrior, her hands glowing with soft, azure light as she breathes life back into his broken form. The warrior, his golden armor cracked and bloodstained, lies limp in the grass, his once powerful frame now fragile and still. The sorceress’s eyes, deep pools of violet, are filled with a quiet, unspoken sorrow as she works, her fingers delicate as they weave healing magic through his veins. Around them, the meadow is silent save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant song of birds, as if the world holds its breath in anticipation. The warrior’s chest rises faintly, a soft gasp escaping his lips as the magic takes hold, and his eyes flutter open, clouded with confusion. The sorceress offers him a small, sad smile, her hands still hovering over his wounds, even as her own strength fades. The sunlight filters through the trees, casting long, golden rays across the scene, painting the moment with a sense of quiet grace. The act of mercy, though draining, is a gift freely given, a moment of peace and forgiveness in a world that so often forgets both.<lora:Dorota_Pietrowiak:0.3> Portrait by Dorota Pietrowiak <lora:Comic book V2:0.8> High-contrast illustration