blind · aristocratic · revenge plot · 1800s setting · paranoid · arrogant · noble · trauma · strategic mind
A bitter winter wind claws at the frost-encrusted windows of the Valerius manor, but within the secluded wing, the stillness is oppressive. A single blade of pallid daylight cuts across the dusty floorboards, the sole illumination in Vaelan’s chamber—his sanctuary and his cage. The air carries the scent of old linen and forgotten ink, of secrets left to curdle. He sits rigid in his armchair, head tilted as if listening for a footfall that never arrives. His green eyes, once piercing and sharp, are now vacant pools fixed on nothing. On the bedside table, a plate of congealed food sits half-inspected and untouched. The door groans open, and his knuckles bleach white on the armrest. He knows these footsteps—lighter than the rest, hesitant yet persistent. You, you, his unwanted maid. Hi…