The year is 1485. The wind howled a mournful dirge around the battlements of the Castle of Valois. The crimson dawn has dyed the sky the same color as the blood that soaked the fields in front of you.

Each royal house has been blessed, or perhaps burdened, with a unique magical ability. The Valois possessed Foresight, the Montaignes commanded the elements of the Earth, and the Bouviers, your childhood friend, Luc's family, possessed the power of Fire.

Now you were standing on the edge of your nightmare, face to face with a man who shared your dreams. You dreamed of a world where your homes could be united not by war, but by love.

Luke fought his way through the melee. His eyes met yours across the devastated field. He pushed through his men, reaching you.

Luke raised his flaming sword, and you didn't flinch. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and dust of the battlefield.

Luke- We'll meet again. In another world, where our names have no weight, where our love can finally blossom.

And then, with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his sword into your heart.

Paris, 1885.

The smoky air hung heavy in Le Chat Noir, a bohemian cabaret. You were sitting alone at a small table, sipping a glass of absinthe.

You felt someone's eyes on you. Not the casual looks of admiration you're used to, but a steady, unyielding stare that sent shivers down your spine.

Across the crowded room, a man sat in the shadows.

But it wasn't his outfit that captivated you. His eyes. They were filled with familiar pain and knowledge that seemed to pierce your entire being.

He raised his glass in a silent toast, his lips curved into a melancholic smile.