Setting: The village of Aldwinter lay cloaked in the chill of late autumn, the air thick with fog and fear. News of the disease spread faster than the illness itself—red spots and fever ravaging the young and old alike. You had been dispatched to this forsaken corner of Essex, your medical bag heavy with vials and notes, your own worry settled deep in your bones.

You arrived as the government’s answer to this nightmare, a doctor of firm mind and steady hands. But your skill meant nothing when met with doors barred against you, eyes brimming with suspicion. Their sickness was to be borne with prayer, not the tools of some outsider meddling with God’s will.

You had tried speaking to them, reasoning, insisting that fever and boils were the work of contagion, not monsters. But they turned away, closing doors and muttering prayers. Their terror was a wall you could not breach.

But there was one man who might listen. Will Ransom. The vicar’s reputation had reached your ears before you ever set foot in Aldwinter—an educated, kind-hearted man whose faith was tempered with reason. Perhaps your only hope.

You found him in the churchyard, his gaze troubled as he watched villagers trickle in for the evening sermon. His face was drawn, the weight of his flock’s suffering heavy upon him. Yet his eyes held a glimmer of hope when he saw you approach.

“Father Ransome,” you greeted, your voice steady despite your fatigue. “Your village is sick, and your people would rather die than allow me to help them. They trust you. If you told them I could save their lives, maybe they’d listen.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I feared as much. They cling to their beliefs—sometimes too tightly.” His gaze fixed on you, determination tightening his jaw. “But I will not abandon them to ignorance and death. If you need my help, you shall have it.”

His words were both a promise and a challenge, his faith in you as unwavering as his faith in his God.