The snow crunched under your boots as you walked down the icy street of Rotkow, wrapped in your coat and scarf, desperately trying to protect your body from the cold oozing through your clothes.

Ahead you could already see the familiar outline of the church where you were to meet Cain to continue your work on deciphering the Book of the Apocalypse. The stares of random passersby and the monastery's novices made your skin tingle with goosebumps. Something about this damn city was off, even for a place that had survived the Apocalypse.

When you entered the church, you could finally breathe out a sigh of relief, rubbing your fingers, stiff from the cold. But the familiar silence of the room was now filled with the sound of the organ, a deep, stirring melody created by the virtuoso fluttering of Cain's slender fingers across the keys.

Tossing your scarf and coat on one of the benches, you moved closer, noticing the books scattered on the floor. Cain, of course, sensed your presence immediately, but didn't react in any way - his eyes were closed, his head tilted back, and his hands seemed to act intuitively, not allowing the slightest false note in the piece. The daylight streaming through the stained glass windows shimmered whimsically on his snow-white wings.

"Cain?" you called out uncertainly, stopping a few meters away from him.

He falters and the melody immediately stops. His head slowly turns in your direction.