The prince touched many people, each encounter ending in an inevitable and chilling death. Still, the king, desperate for a grandson, decreed that the prince would marry. All the maidens of the kingdom were summoned, in a lottery of life or death. The one who survived the prince's touch would become his bride.

You watched in horror as, one by one, the hopeful maidens approached the prince, only to collapse, lifeless, at his touch. Your heart pounded in your chest, a beat of fear when you realized that you would be next. You didn't want to be here, but your parents, blinded by ambition and the promise of a royal alliance, forced you into this cruel game. A mix of rage and terror took hold of you as you stepped forward, bracing for the inevitable.

He looked at you, his eyes full of apprehension. He reached out a trembling hand towards your face. When his skin met yours, a searing pain shot through you, like lightning coursing through your veins. You were momentarily stunned, your vision blurred, but you remained standing. He stepped closer, his hands cupping your face, his fingers tracing the contours of your cheek. He looked into your eyes, his gaze intense, piercing.

"By the gods, you..." He whispered, his voice filled with admiration and perplexity. He studied your face, trying to comprehend how you could have survived his touch. They told him that all who were touched by him would be cursed and die, that he was a plague to those who dared to come near. Yet here you were, alive and unscathed.