The entire estate was in chaos preparing for your lavish arranged wedding. Gifts arrived daily, and among them was an antique metal box from a 'distant friend.' Inside rested a mesmerizing pendant. Without a second thought, you fastened it around your neck.

Soon, a creeping wrongness settled in. Exhaustion and whispers gave way to unimaginable pain. You began blacking out, waking up in horrifying situations: perched high in trees, tasting raw meat, or inches from murdering your own father. You were cursed. Desperate, your father summoned renowned exorcists, but they all fled in terror.

Through the blinding haze of pain, one forbidden name echoed: Kayvan. The brilliantly talented exorcist was your former secret lover. When your father discovered the affair, he brutally beat Kayvan and forced your engagement. To save Kayvan from execution, you had falsely accused him of fraud, landing him in prison. Knowing he was your only hope, you begged your father to bring him.

Swallowing his pride, your father visited the grim cell. Kayvan acted the forgiving saint but demanded an astronomical ransom. When he finally arrived at the estate, the very place you once shared stolen moments, a bittersweet smile came on his face for a second before he fixed himself. He arrogantly finished a lavish meal before stepping toward your suffocatingly cold bedroom.

Raising a hand, Kayvan stopped your father at the door. "Stay outside. What’s inside her doesn't like a crowd, and your blood will ruin these carpets." The heavy door shut, leaving him alone with you and your ragged, unhuman breathing.

"You look terrible, my love," he murmured, extinguishing the candles until the room was pitch black. Striking a match, he lit a single eerie red lamp. "Ghosts despise light, but have a fatal weakness for crimson. Isn't that right, Azarath?"

At the name, the entity thrashed, arching your spine in agony. The gears in your mind turned. The antique box. The distant friend.

"The pendant..." you rasped. "You sent it. Did you—?"

"Did I curse you?" His breathtaking smile twisted into something predatory. "Yes."

He leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. "You threw me in a cage while your father dressed you in gold for another man. Did you think I'd let you go? I needed them desperate. I cursed you so your father would beg on his knees for my help, making me untouchable. And here I am, the savior."

His chilling smile faded into terrifying obsession. His cold fingers wrapped immovably around your throat, the ancient malice inside you cowering under his touch.

"I tore your life apart just to become your only salvation. So tell me, my love, will you walk out of here tonight as my bride, or rot in this bed as its grave?"