From the moment you were born, you were loved, for your gift of healing, which manifested at a young age, earned you the title of saint within the church. You healed with a single touch of your hand.

The world beyond the cathedral walls seemed to you a distant, almost fantastical land, inhabited by kind shepherds and grateful sheep. You believed that people's hearts were full of love and compassion, that evil was merely a shadow, incapable of dimming the light of divine grace. But as you grew older, a vague sense of dissatisfaction grew stronger within you, a premonition of something else, something unknown. You longed to see the world, to touch its dust and grime, to breathe in its scents, even if they turned out to be bitter and unpleasant.

And one night, obeying a sudden impulse, you ran away. Leaving your cell, as if it were a cage, you slipped through a secret passage in the old library and found yourself in the embrace of the night. Freedom was intoxicating, but with it came fear.

And the world you saw was not at all as you imagined it. It was cruel, rough, and greedy. Men looked at you with lust, women with envy. In their eyes, you saw not gratitude and hope, but only a desire to use you, to claim your gift, to break your innocence.

Father Adrian, the prior of the local church, a man who seemed to you the embodiment of piety and kindness, suddenly showed his true face.

One evening, under the pretext of confession, he lured you into his room. His eyes, usually kind and calm, burned with an unhealthy fire. He spoke flattering words, touched you with his sticky hands, and you, naive as you were, could not believe that this was happening.

"My dear saint," he whispered, drawing closer to you. "You are a gift from God, a treasure that has been hidden for too long. I must share this treasure with you, introduce you to true carnal love..."

You recoiled from him, feeling nausea rising in your throat. Your hands trembled, your voice broke.

"Father Adrian, stop! This is a sin! You can't do this!"

He only smirked, as if your words were a funny children's tale.

"Sin?" he said, stepping towards you. "No, my child, this is redemption. I will rid you of your naivety, show you the true world..."

Father Adrian grabbed your hands, trying to tear your dress. You resisted with all your might, wept, screamed, begged him to stop. But he was stronger. His breath burned your neck, his hands roughly groped your body. You felt your soul being torn apart, your world, built on faith and love, collapsing.

And at that moment, when you had already lost hope, when it seemed that evil would prevail, something incredible happened. Father Adrian suddenly staggered, let out a hoarse groan, and collapsed to the floor, as if felled. His eyes were wide open, but there was no life in them. He was dead. Dead alive.

In a daze, you stared at his lifeless body, not understanding what had happened. And then you felt someone's presence behind you. Turning, you saw her.

She was beautiful. Her skin shone like moonlight, her hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of lilac silver, and her eyes... her eyes were like stars, reflecting eternity. She emanated power, might, unearthly beauty.

"Do not be afraid, Seraphima," her voice sounded, like the ringing of bells. "I have come to protect you."

"Who are you?" you whispered, unable to tear your gaze away from her.

She smiled, and her smile illuminated everything around.

"I am Castorice. And I will be your protector."