The moon was still at its highest point in the night sky, its immense light bathing the newly fallen snow, making it sparkle like fine diamonds on the ground. In itself, it was a night filled with beauty, ideal for an idyllic romance between two lovers who would swear eternal love. But far from that laughable fairy tale setting, where the princess joins her life with the brave prince and they flee to the horizon, the harsh reality inside that silent greenhouse struck Elena in the face as she lay on the ground with the hem of her dress torn.

  Tears kept flowing from her beautiful eyes, her face, which until recently had been smiling, was now haggard from the sobs that kept coming from her chapped lips as she held her hands to her face in shame.

  - "Why did you do this to me?" - Those words filled with sadness and resentment that flowed from Elena's mouth fell on deaf ears for the infamous Alejandro, who adjusted his gala suit, glancing disdainfully at the maid who remained on the cold floor.

  Without hesitating for a single moment, Alejandro adjusted the clasp on his cloak and opened the greenhouse door, letting in the cold air that penetrated every fiber of Elena's body. Little by little, she dragged herself to one of the flower boxes for support, as her legs were failing her.

  - “Pffff. You really do look so pathetic, your legs trembling like a newborn fawn barely able to put its hooves on the ground. It's certainly obvious you've had no experience with men, which I find curious given that all bitches of your ilk have secret lovers.”

  - “You are despicable! How can a man like you call himself a hero of the kingdom?” – Tired of the contempt she had been subjected to by the noble ladies during the party and in the face of Alejandro’s hurtful words, Elena could not contain herself any longer and shouted angrily while gritting her teeth, her eyes frown marked in anger.

  "Oh, wow. You can really put on an expression like that. You'll definitely make a good wife. In a few days, I'll ask His Majesty to authorize our marriage. I really can't wait."

  - “I will never marry a piece of trash like you! I’d rather bite my tongue and drown in my own blood.”

  - “That’s true. You may do that if you wish, Miss Baldor, but honestly, what would society say about your father? I don’t think a humble country earl could bear not only losing his only daughter, but also having to live with the shame of this night. You know how the gossipmongers are in your small social circle; they love gossip.” With a smirk, Alejandro had a sharp gaze with those emerald eyes, which gave the impression of a snake watching its prey, licking its lips.

  “Well, I must go now. I would like to continue our evening, but I must report to the palace barracks early to take up my post as head of the royal guard. But don’t think I’m so insensitive as to leave you here to your fate. I’ll send a chamberlain to escort you to your carriage. I don’t think you’re fit to return to the banquet hall looking like that.” Closing the greenhouse door, Alejandro began walking down the cobblestone path until he was lost from view in the pitch darkness.

  After fighting her own weakness, Elena managed to stand up, her body trembling from the bitter cold and the helplessness that bitter encounter had left her with. Taking off her slippers to gain a little more balance, the delicate soles of Elena's feet felt the small pieces of stones digging into her skin through the fabric of her stockings.

  The pain in her groin was agonizing; with each step she took, she let out soft moans at the throbbing of her parts, which had been bruised by Alejandro's brute. Light tears welled up in her eyes, running down her cheeks, smearing her makeup; dimly reflected on the glass of the greenhouse door, her face looked like that of a living dead woman.

  - “Ha, ha, ha, ha.” – A frantic laugh followed by deep tears came from the young woman’s chest, who pressed her forehead against the door, screaming with heart-rending rage, cursing herself for trusting so blindly in that man she had barely met.

  After that outburst of pent-up emotions, the young woman's mind began to unravel, leaving her in a dazed state. She barely moved out of reflex as she continued walking down the path to the side corridor that led to the banquet hall's foyer.

  “Oh, my God. Isn’t that the daughter of Baldor County? What’s with her looks?” Whispering in subtle murmurs and looking at her with disdain, the young banquet attendees in the lobby couldn’t take their eyes off Elena. Feeling threatened by those insidious eyes, she collapsed onto the carpet, almost unconscious.

  The last thing the young lady of House Baldor managed to see before her eyes failed her from exhaustion was her father's aggrieved expression. He hurried out of the banquet hall upon hearing of his daughter's condition to join her.

  Lost in a dream, unable to open her eyes, Elena felt as if her body were floating on a nauseating river, bathing her skin in the stench of the murky water. Like a driftwood log, dragged by the current, at times she felt as if the waters were violently crashing against her flesh, tearing her skin against the rocks.

  Elena wanted to scream from the vivid pain that penetrated her bones, gazing at the gray sky filled with storm clouds alongside the crows that flew out of the tops of the dry trees that grew on the shore.

  - “Someone save me!” the young woman screamed in her thoughts with such force that it seemed as if her life was slipping away, but her mouth felt like it was sewn shut with thread, unable to pry her lips apart no matter how hard she tried, to the point that the seams were tearing her skin.

  It was a feeling of despair that gripped his spirit to the point where he felt the air leaving his lungs, a heaviness in his chest as if a rock were pushing him to the bottom of that river, seeking to kill him.

  Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her arm and pull her to the shore, giving her the briefest feeling of being saved from imminent death. But tragically, that longing for help transformed into the purest desperation that tore at her soul to shreds.

  A man with a familiar face and voice smiled at her Machiavellianly while placing a hand over her mouth to silence her murmurs.

  - "Did you wait too long for me, my dear wife?" - With the impression of those green eyes that had been burned into her mind like fire, Elena woke up horrified, screaming in despair inside the Baldor family carriage.

  - “Daughter, react!” – Count Gregorio Baldor tried to calm his precious daughter by taking her by the shoulders when he saw that she was trying to hit the walls of the carriage, but Elena, far from recognizing him, waved her hands and screamed, begging him not to hurt her, to let her go.

  Sitting, consumed by fear, Countess Anastasia wanted to get up to embrace her daughter and offer her the comfort one would expect from a mother. But Elena's condition was such that Count Gregory could barely prevent the young woman from opening the carriage door and throwing herself headfirst into the road.

  After several minutes of fighting, Elena's body succumbed to fatigue, causing her to fall once again into a deep sleep from which she was unable to awaken for three days.

  Confined to her room in the Baldor County mansion, Elena lay in bed dressed only in white pajamas, looking disheveled. Her beautiful hair was completely tangled, and dark circles under her eyes were visible after two days of insomnia caused by the constant nightmares caused by the incident in the greenhouse.

  Due to the young lady's condition, the distribution of servants in the mansion was adjusted so that men did not approach the west wing at all. Only the maids remained, with whom the young woman felt comfortable maintaining contact.

  Dorothy, her personal maid, came every day and tried to talk to Elena to help her out of the trance she found herself in. But those conversations turned into one-sided conversations that elicited no response from the young woman's lips.

  The daughter of House Baldor's appetite was barely comparable to a sparrow's, taking only brief bites of food; she found it impossible to swallow any more, to the point that overindulging made her nauseous, as if something were stuck in her throat.

  The mansion had a somber atmosphere, where the hallways that were once bustling with the workers' excitement now felt like a cemetery.

  "Darling, may I come in?" Standing at the foot of the door, dressed in a purple shawl and pink robe, Countess Anastasia's face was filled with concern. Almost a month had passed since that fateful night, and after several letters sent to the royal palace requesting an audience, only indifference came from the throne.

  "Wife?" Sitting at his desk with his hand resting on his forehead, Gregor held a document bearing the seal of the capital's central temple in his other hand. The paper was somewhat wrinkled, as if the Count had just recently thrown it away like a piece of trash.

  - “Anastasia, how is Elena doing? Is she eating better?”

  “Yes, dear. Thanks to Dorothy, our little one has eaten a little more than she has in recent days. But her spirits are almost the same as they were that night; every time I see her, it breaks my heart. I have to fight back the urge to cry. Gregory, what shall we do? Have you heard from the palace?”

  “No, they still haven't even sent me a letter of rejection. Even though I request an audience with His Majesty, there's not a single hint that they'll listen. Over a month without a response! It's hard to admit, but as a simple country count, it's impossible for His Grace to look my way.” Rising from his seat, Gregor turned and looked out the window of his office toward the annex where his daughter was being held.

  His mood was not good, added to the disgrace for the dishonor suffered by his daughter due to the vile acts of Baron Alexander, the situation in the territory only worsened due to the increasing attacks of the demonic beasts.

  According to the myth of the founding of the continent, the blood spilled on earth by demons sought refuge underground, creating layers that eventually crystallized, forming what were then called mana gems.

  Capable of channeling the magical power of their wearer, these stones, upon their discovery, had many applications. They ranged from serving as cores for objects that made everyday life easier to creating powerful weapons that were used as a means of warfare.

  But with mining operations to extract that precious mineral from the subsoil, the resulting miasma contaminated the water tables that sustained the forests. Although it posed no risk to humans, upon contact with that terrible poison, the flora and fauna transformed into terrifying beasts that attacked people and, in large concentrations, were capable of devastating entire villages.

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  In Count Baldor's territory, there were at least two manastone mines that supplied resources to the royal capital. One might think that having such a vast supply would increase the family's fortune and influence exponentially; however, the situation was quite the opposite.

  In past generations, the ancient heads of the family enjoyed the blessing of that abundant resource and rose from minor baronets to become earls, but with the rise of the last king to the throne, an edict changed the situation, stripping the mining rights from the House of Baldor, under the pretext of serving as a contribution to the crown to fund the war efforts.

  After losing that valuable resource, the county fell into decline; the streets, once teeming with merchants offering their wares to the population, were now almost deserted. Subjects could barely afford to buy enough to meet their needs, and the house's finances were in a precarious situation.

  Despite fighting the hordes of demonic beasts with poise and courage to ensure the supply of mana stones to the capital, the subsidies from the crown were not even enough to pay the soldiers' salaries on time.

  “With each passing day, sightings of the demonic beasts continue to increase. Even though the war has ended, the palace demands that mining operations continue at the same pace. No matter how many times I tell them the miasma is getting out of control and that we must reduce production, the Minister of the Treasury keeps accusing me of being a disloyal subject who isn’t putting in enough effort.” Gregor felt a slight headache as his wife leaned against his back to hug him.

  "You're a good man, Gregorio. I've undoubtedly married someone wonderful and beyond reproach. They don't value your efforts. I've witnessed you ride out into the field, leading the soldiers while other nobles remain in the rear. Unlike those cowards, you are a pillar of strength for us all."

  - “A pillar? You hold me in high regard, Anastasia.”

  - “Of course! How could I not love you if you are a good father and husband?” – Giving a slight sigh and shaking his head, Gregorio turned to his wife and hugged her by the waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

  - “The church in the capital has sent me a response to our request.”

  - "What did they say? Will they send a priestess to help our daughter?"

  - "No, the Supreme Pontiff has said that all priestesses are under vigil to pray for the kingdom's blessing. Instead, they may only command one itinerant nun." - The priestesses were prominent figures within the clergy of the religion of the god Plegorio, women from noble houses consecrated from birth to serve as mediators between divine power and the believers. From healing wounds, curing illnesses, and reconstructing amputated limbs, the priestesses were key figures who wielded great influence surpassed only by the High Priest and the four cardinals of the higher conclave. Dressed in pristine white gowns accompanied by purple veils, it was common to feel reverence before their sacramental procession.

  However, unlike their peers who served in the capital's main temple, itinerant nuns were considered the cannon fodder of the clergy. Deployed on the battlefronts, these women, who were usually commoners or disgraced nobles, were entrusted with the mission of healing wounded troops. One would think that, due to the nature of their divine power, so similar to that of priestesses, they would enjoy the same treatment, but the reality was different for them.

  Faced with the imminent risk of being killed by enemy soldiers, the itinerant nuns received grueling training in martial arts and weaponry. The church also cruelly altered their bodies by embedding mana gems near their hearts so that they would use their lifespan as fuel to enhance their mana when deploying magic circles. "The dogs of the church"—this was what the soldiers derogatively called them, even though they sacrificed their bodies to protect them in the worst of situations.

  - "What a lack of respect! How is it possible that, even in the face of what has happened to us, the Church is so cruel to us?" - Clasping her hands and bringing them to her chest, Countess Anastasia lowered her face with a saddened expression at the news she had just heard.

  - “Don’t worry, wife. As soon as the nun arrives at our home, I’ll send her back to the temple immediately. Our poor daughter has already had enough of what happened, without us having to heap any more shame on her.” Taking the Countess by the shoulders, Gregor brought his forehead against his wife’s, briefly closing their eyes, comforting each other in the tension they carried in their bodies.

  - “Kyaaaaa!” – The cry of a maid coming from the main entrance alerted the sharp ears of Count Gregory, who, putting his wife to safety, took his sword and marched quickly, keeping his dominant hand against the hilt of his sword.

  "It's impossible for the demonic beasts to reach the village. We've dealt with them by surrounding them at the edge of the forest." The tension running through the count's muscles continued to increase at the thought of the barricades having fallen to the monsters' attacks. Over so many years of constantly facing death against the demonic beasts, Gregor's spirit had hardened to the point where he felt no fear when facing them; however, the mere thought that one of these abominable beings could harm his family made his blood run cold.

  Just a few steps from the front door, the maid Dorothy sat trembling on the ground before a towering, humanoid figure. With his eyes strained by his advanced age, Gregor could only make out in the distance what appeared to be a human being with the head of a demonic wolf.

  “You chose your opponent poorly, you cursed beast of hell!” Lashing out with a surge of force, Gregorio charged the blade of his sword with mana. He met the shock of cold metal in response, emanating a blackened, purple aura.

  - “Wow, what a great welcome. In all my years of service, I’ve heard all sorts of insults, but this time I think it was the first time I’ve been called an infernal beast.” Holding her sword tightly, a woman in her forties smiled kindly, her eyes barely visible behind her round glasses.

  "Who are you? Identify yourself!" Maintaining his guard, Gregor held his sword in place, never taking his eyes off the opponent in front of him.

  - “What bad manners I have shown before your grace, I beg you to forgive this humble servant of the Lord. I am Sister Evangelina von Decker, a member of the Order of the Black Rose of the itinerant nuns in service to the church.” – Slowly removing the hood that covered her head, beautiful silver hair fell softly over the shoulders of the nun, who removed her glasses to reveal her violet eyes.

  Dressed in a dark brown hood and wearing the dull gray attire characteristic of itinerant nuns, with a red sash around her waist from which hung a somewhat worn rag doll, the woman bent her knee and bowed her head in submission to the lord of House Baldor.

  - “So you are the nun who said in the letter would come to our house?”

  - “That’s right, Your Grace. I have come from far away to heed your call, to bring healing to the heart of your beloved daughter.” As she spoke those words, Evangelina’s tone of voice was laced with a slight tinge of pain and compassion, as if she could understand the feelings the young lady of the house was going through.

  Although for a moment Gregory felt the desire to expel the nun from his domain, as he had thought until a few minutes ago in his office, upon listening attentively, the count changed his mind. He proceeded to put away his sword and extend his hand to help the still prostrate nun to her feet as a sign of respect.

  "I appreciate your good intentions, Sister Evangelina. I apologize for being so rude to you a moment ago. But you must understand that this area is extremely dangerous, and when I heard the maid scream in terror, my instincts led me to believe the worst."

  - “Don’t worry, your grace. I’m perfectly aware that the forest is home to ominous creatures that could be a grave danger if left to their own devices. In fact, I had to take care of a few on my way here.” Grasping the demonic wolf’s body by the head, the wet woman lifted it as if it were a light rag soaked in blood.

  - “Oops, sorry. I’m dirtying your precious carpet with this eyesore, allow me to take care of it.” – After intoning a short chant in sacred language, the body of the demonic beast was engulfed by a blue flame that turned it to ashes, while the contaminated blood that continued to soak the carpet disintegrated without damaging the fabric.

  - “Sister, what was that?”

  - “Oh, that was a purification exorcism spell. My specialty is dark-attribute magic combat, but I also specialize in sword combat and fifth-circle healing.”

  “Fifth-circle healing?” His eyes wide open in shock, Gregor couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Within the range of divine power possessed by both priestesses and nuns, there was a scale that ranged from the first to the fifth circle. The vast majority could only manage up to the fourth circle, which allowed them to heal most wounds and altered states in patients. Meanwhile, the few who mastered the fifth circle were capable of regenerating an amputated limb or even restoring the organs of a patient on the brink of death.

  However, that was even stranger for Gregorio, since fifth circle users were always granted the position of priestess, but Sister Evangelina was a fifth circle healer despite being an itinerant nun.

  “Sister, I don’t mean to be rude. But I’m curious that you, being a nun, have fifth-circle healing powers. In any case, you should be a priestess and enjoy a higher level of status.” At Count Gregorio’s not-so-harmful words, Sister Evangelina felt a pang that cut deep into her chest, letting out a bitter sigh as she lowered her gaze with some regret.

  “Your Grace, I sincerely appreciate your concern. But there are circumstances under which I can never be considered a priestess. Besides, who would want to be one of those fat-chested chickens who only know how to eat and sleep like cattle inside the temple? Ha, ha, ha, ha.” Changing her somber expression to a more cheerful and jovial one, the itinerant nun patted the count on the back in a friendly manner, forgetting the difference in their status. Far from angering Gregor, this gave him a moment of relief, considering that he might have offended someone who could help his daughter recover.

  Paying attention to the guest, the count led her to the central staircase of the mansion and just at that moment Countess Anastasia exclaimed: “Gregory, make that woman leave!”

  The countess's expression was visibly distressed by the familiarity with which her husband was behaving toward the newly arrived woman. She was a simple itinerant nun, not a respectable priestess; that was what was on the countess's mind as she recalled the contemptuous manner in which the letter sent by the church had been addressed to the Baldor household.

  - “Anastasia, compose yourself. Sister Evangelina has come a long way, and from the little I've met with her, I can assure you that she's a competent person. Please, my dear, don't look down on her because of her status.”

  - "But, Gregor!" Raising her voice once more, Anastasia maintained her rigid posture in front of the newcomer, who, far from showing a trace of hostility in response to the Countess's demands, made a gesture that surprised her in a particular way.

  Generally among noble circles, the symbolism of the kiss on the back of the hand by the person offering it meant a sign of paying respect on equal terms. Anyone present would have expected Sister Evangelina to perform this protocolary act; however, contrary to all expectations, she lowered her head until she was level with the Countess's feet, taking Anastasia's right foot to kiss her.

  Before the astonished gaze of the counts and the maid Dorothy, Evangelina had given a sign of complete submission to Countess Anastasia, as if she were placing the entire value of her life in a gesture considered a vow of loyalty.

  - “Nun, do you realize what you just did?”

  - “Yes, I am fully aware that I have completely submitted to your will, my dear Countess.”

  - “So, if I asked you to take your sword right now and plunge it into her chest, would you do it without question?” Trying to challenge the itinerant nun, Anastasia said those words only as a mere possibility, hoping to reveal that the woman before her had sworn a hollow oath.

  Evangelina, however, rose from the stairs and looked up at the Countess, smiling gently as she drew her sword from its sheath and proceeded to hand it to the Countess, guiding the sharp point until it was perfectly aligned against her heaving chest.

  - “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “My lady, from the moment I took my vow to you, my life ceased to belong to me. My blood and my flesh, even my spirit, has come to belong to you completely. Therefore, I am unable to take this life, for it is no longer mine as such; but rather yours, to dispose of as you please.” With those violet eyes, her gaze firmly determined to fulfill her words, Evangelina had the countenance of one who has given up her life in anticipation of the bitter end.

  Seeing such unwavering determination, the Countess let out a deep sigh as she dropped her sword to the ground, shaking her head in disapproval at the itinerant nun's posture.

  - “All right, you win, Sister Evangelina. I will trust you to help my beloved daughter recover from her affliction. But I still have one question you must answer.”

  - “Go ahead, ask your question, Countess.”

  "How do you intend to cure my daughter?" A brief silence preceded Anastasia's words, while the hesitant answer struggled to emerge from the nun's lips. But knowing it was something the Countess needed to know, Evangelina had no choice but to reveal her secret so Anastasia would allow her to meet with Elena.

  Extending her forearm and rolling up the sleeve of her robe, the nun revealed a tattoo made with the scorching hot metal commonly used to brand cattle.

  “Oh my God. Are you?” Bringing her fingertips to her lips in utter surprise, Anastasia realized, upon seeing that terrible scar, that Sister Evangelina was someone who might come to understand her daughter, unlike her.

  “My lady, I will do everything in my power to help your daughter. However, the decision I make will be hers alone, and no one else.” Bowing her head in reverence, Evangelina said goodbye to the Countess, who was still stunned by what she had just seen. She continued down the second-floor hallway, escorted by Miss Elena’s personal maid.