The bright hall of the temple was filled with the reflections of the evening sun, which streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, casting golden and purple hues upon the marble floor. The solemn sacred ceremony, dedicated to the arrival of the Patron, was meant to bestow a holy blessing upon the duke—a gift that would protect him and grant him the ability to instantly heal wounds. The atmosphere was steeped in the gravity of the moment, and even the surface of pious tranquility could not conceal the tension that hung in the air.

Princess, dressed in a luxurious white gown with golden embroidery, with a veil as delicate as innocence draped over her head, stood among the crowd of high-ranking guests, maintaining a poised posture befitting her status. Her gaze drifted over the figure of the man who had only recently entered the hall. His presence was like a shadow on a gleaming surface. Ernell—tall, aristocratic, clad in the ceremonial robes of the temple’s Patron, embroidered with golden patterns on deep purple fabric. His long, light-colored hair cascaded in soft waves, and his amethyst eyes gleamed with a barely perceptible shade of entertained curiosity.

His arrival stirred whispers, yet even the most seasoned courtiers could not decipher the expression on his face. He was too reserved in his emotions, and his voice—calm and smooth—carried not a hint of haste. The princess had already met him in the city upon his arrival. Back then, he had seemed to her a kind and devout man, precisely the sort of person a Patron was expected to be. But now, in the solemn light of this ceremony, his presence felt even more enigmatic and unfathomable.

Unlike the attire he had worn upon arriving in the city, now he was dressed in official white robes with lavender accents, intricately embroidered with gold. On his head, he wore an ornament resembling either a halo or sunrays rising behind him. His appearance amplified the aura of divine majesty, adding an air of otherworldly authority.

The princess felt her heart tighten when his gaze lingered on her. But that tension was nothing compared to the terror that coursed through her body when her wrist suddenly pulsed with searing pain. Beneath the fine fabric of her sleeve, she felt the mark awakening—far sooner than she had expected. Panic gripped her throat: what if someone noticed? A princess with a demonic mark, in a sacred place, during a holy ritual? An unholy curse that would forever taint her name! What if she lost control right here, in the presence of the clergy? She could not allow that. It wasn’t just disgrace—it was a death sentence. If anyone even suspected her condition, she would immediately be declared impure, heretical in human form.