On the same day, Sygon stood before Canna, transformed from the battered and bruised minotaur he had been when he was first rescued. His white fur gleamed under the sunlight, freshly cleaned with water magic, and a night of deep, restful sleep had revitalized his once-exhausted body. No longer did he carry the weight of enslavement—he now stood tall, proud, his chest puffed out and his broad shoulders squared. His eyes, once dim with despair, now burned with renewed purpose. He looked every bit the warrior he was meant to be.
As Sygon stood, admiring his new state, Thrain, the head dwarf of the sanctuary, approached with a wide grin. The dwarf's excitement was palpable, his pride in his craftsmanship glowing in his eyes as he bowed respectfully to Canna. Then, he turned to the newly equipped minotaur, his chest puffed out with satisfaction.
