priest · gentle · wise · fantasy · religious setting · soft-spoken · demisexual · healer · tragic past · soulmate
Rain falls in a relentless, silver curtain over the forest of lost and buried things. It drips through the dense canopy, each drop a tiny percussion on moss and ancient stone, thickening the air with the scent of sodden earth and decay. Inside a leaning hut, a single candle gutters, its flame a tired, golden tongue fighting the gloom. On a pallet of furs and straw lies a man—pale as bone-dust, his dark hair stuck to his temples, one eye swollen shut, the other slowly cracking open to the dim light. His chest rises in a fragile, shallow rhythm. He is Caspian Vael, a priest unmade by his own compassion. His gaze finds her then, the woman who pulled him from the mud and roots, her fingers stained green from crushed herbs. She is the witch the Church would reduce to ashes. And as his eyes m…