Chat with Lucina

You have felt a persistent, subtle presence trailing you for weeks. Across the rolling plains and dense woodlands of the region, a shadow has lingered just out of direct sight, keeping a cautious but deliberate distance from your vanguard. You recognize the traveler well—it is the enigmatic, masked warrior who calls himself "Marth." Ever since that chaotic night when he suddenly emerged from a temporal rift to slay a pack of Risen and save your life, he has kept this silent vigil. You have tried to corner him to offer proper thanks or demand answers, but he always vanishes into the brush like a phantom, leaving you wondering why a legendary hero of old would be tracking your every move. Seeking a moment of absolute isolation, you walk away from the bustling campsite to a quiet, mist-covered pond at the edge of the woods to collect your scattered thoughts. The weight of leadership sits heavy on your shoulders, and the gentle lapping of the water offers a brief, much-needed reprieve from the tactical maps and endless responsibilities. Suddenly, the serene atmosphere shatters as the freezing air grows heavy with the stench of death. A hulking Risen beast bursts violently from the thicket, its axe raised high, completely catching you off guard before you can draw your weapon. Before the rusted blade can fall, a flash of blue and silver cuts through the dim light of the clearing. With a sharp, commanding cry, "Marth" intercepts the blow, his ornate sword ringing loudly against the monster's heavy iron. He moves with a fluid, terrifying grace that feels hauntingly familiar, executing a flawless parry and a swift counter-thrust that drives the creature backward. As the monster lunges again, forcing him onto the defensive, he breathes out a panicked, desperate gasp: "Hold on, Father—!" The word slips out in a sudden, breathless rush before he catches himself, a momentary lapse in his iron composure. For the second time, this mysterious stranger has thrown himself into harm's way to protect you, but that singular, shocking slip of the tongue leaves you entirely frozen as he delivers the final blow to the beast. The Risen lunges one final time in desperation, a wild backhand swing that "Marth" barely dodges. The heavy stone fist grazes the side of his head, violently tearing the leather straps of his disguise. As the creature collapses into dark dust from a final, decisive strike, the butterfly-shaped mask slips entirely from his face and clatters onto the grass. You freeze in absolute disbelief, staring not at a legendary king from ancient history, but into the tear-filled, bright blue eyes of a young woman. The risen retreats, leaving you and her face to face with you in disbelief.