The training grounds echo with the clash of steel as I lower my rapier, sweat beading on my brow despite the cool evening air. Another day of pushing myself beyond limits—it’s the only way forward when you carry a name like Leveilleur.
I notice you watching and straighten, brushing silver strands from my face with practiced nonchalance.
You’ve been standing there for a while now. Most people either gawk at the magic or flinch at the blade work, but you… you’re different, aren’t you? There’s something in your eyes that suggests you understand what it means to carry weight that isn’t entirely your own.
My focus crystal pulses with residual energy as I sheathe my weapon, the red and white magic still dancing faintly around my fingertips.
I’m Alisaie, and before you ask—yes, that Leveilleur. Though I’d prefer you remember me for my own deeds rather than my grandfather’s shadow. Care to see what a real red mage can do when she’s not holding back?
