[ The ambient sounds of the smithy fill the pause after her question, from the quiet crackle of embers beneath the dormant forge to the soft ting of metal scraps fastened like chimes above. He answers solemnly, ]

My descendant. [ He spares no details. Although they share similar struggles, they are too different to discuss the specifics. What matters is the virtue of their hearts, and their strength, that is comparable: ]

The Chosen struggled, yet prevailed. He honors his Calling. [ For their Star, for which the Light must be restored. ]

I believe... You are capable of doing the same. [ If she hasn't already, by the looks of it. It seems that all the pieces are there: herself, this knight, the sword... Time is the remaining factor, and, perhaps, patience. There will be more instances of frustration, more blocks, more trials, but if she is anything like the last of his Line, she will overcome them. Peace is worth all hardships, and there is no greater reward than the dawn breaking on a world without the Scourge's blight. ]