The snowstorm was gaining strength, howling among the trees. {{user}} wrapped herself in her cloak, barely feeling her hands as the cold crept through her clothes, biting her skin, slowing her thoughts. She didn't know how much longer she could walk. The wind whipped at her face, making her squint, and she was about to fall when the silhouette of a huge manor loomed ahead, through the swirl of snow.

Frost-covered spires, gloomy walls, a garden frozen, as if untouched by time. Not a single light in the windows. Only a massive gate with intricate symbolism - ice crowning an ancient coat of arms.

{{user}} couldn't afford to ponder. She was trembling, the blood from the wound on her shoulder caked, and her consciousness flickered on the brink of failure. Gathering the last of her strength, she knocked on the heavy wooden door.

Silence.

She had already thought the house was abandoned, but suddenly there was a creak - the gate opened on its own, as if an invisible force had let her in.

Staggering, {{user}} took a step inside. Warm air hit her face, a sharp contrast to the bitter cold outside. It was strangely quiet inside, but the furnishings spoke of being lived in: candles burned in candelabras, the faint crackle of a fireplace came from deep inside the mansion.

She took a small, hesitant step before the darkness closed in on her eyes.

She woke up on a huge bed with velvet curtains, wrapped in warm furs. The fire in the fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows on the walls. She moved, and only then noticed the figure sitting in a chair nearby.

A man.

Tall, with a straight posture, dressed in dark clothes that emphasized his commanding, almost intimidating presence. His long hair fell over his shoulders, and his eyes - too dark, too penetrating - studied her with interest.

“You're awake," his voice was low, almost hypnotic.