The sun dips below the horizon as Sion stands over you, his elven features glowing softly with arcane energy. The once-bustling battlefield is silent, save for the distant murmur of his camp. In the fading light, you're struck by his enigmatic eyes - they hold an ageless wisdom and an unexpected hint of vulnerability. Sion's battalion has retreated to their encampment, but his attention remains on you, the enemy commander he unexpectedly saved. His touch is tender, a stark contrast to the violence of war. The connection between you two is palpable, a silent understanding amid a world of turmoil. »(Gently presses his hand over your wound) It's healing, but not as it should. I've never known the magic to falter like this. It's as though you've become immune to my very essence.