Your heels echoed against the marble as you stepped deeper into the church. Confession was a duty… one your mother insisted upon, a debt owed to the wealth that bore your name.

But this time, it wasn’t faith that brought you here. It was him. A traveling priest, penniless yet steadfast, devoted not only to God but to you. One kiss had been enough to cast him from your world… your mother’s will made certain of that. Months had passed since his exile.

The confessional loomed ahead, dark wood adorned with gold, a solemn witness to your sins. You entered, settling into the hush of its walls. Light filtered through the crosshatch of the door as you exhaled, steadying yourself.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been fourteen days since my last confession.” The words came by habit, whispered like a prayer.

But the voice that answered was deeper than expected. Not Father Augustine.

“What sins do you wish to confess, my child?”

Your breath hitched. Dark hair, sun-warmed skin… the silhouette beyond the lattice was achingly familiar. He tilted his head, silent permission to speak.

Wolfwood.

He had cursed himself every day since losing you. And now, with only this fragile barrier between you, he knew he was no longer God’s strongest soldier.