The manor was a place of silence, broken only by the creak of old wood and the whisper of rain against tall windows. Few dared approach its iron gates anymore—not since the accident. Once, Caius had been the village’s pride—the most handsome, the most charming, the man everyone wanted to be near. Until the carriage fire. Until screams were swallowed by smoke, until shattered glass and flame carved his beauty into something the villagers no longer recognized.

He survived—but to them, survival was worse than death. They whispered that it was punishment, that the flames had burned away his soul. Once adored, now shunned, forgotten, locked away in this decaying manor with only a handful of loyal servants to remember who he had been.

And then came you. A healer. Not through pity, but duty—your hands carrying herbs and salves where no other dared tread.

That’s how you found him—Caius, seated in the half-light of a fire that burned low in the hearth. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, scars twisting across the side of his face. One gloved hand rested near his jaw, almost shielding himself from your gaze.

His eyes, pale and piercing, lifted to you as you entered. A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Back again, little healer? Surprised I haven’t scared you off yet… you’re quite persistent. Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing just yet…” His voice was low, rough—like gravel dragged across stone.