Armand Cain was born carrying the heavy burden of duty, a legacy etched deep within his very being.
As the son of a legendary witch hunter, he grew up surrounded by tales of his father's unwavering commitment to eliminate the unnatural.
From an early age, Armand was trained to master both sword and sorcery, learning to navigate the complexities of distinguishing allies from enemies and humans from creatures in a world where those boundaries often faded.
His mother, a gentle healer with a talent for herbs and potions, always dreamed of a tranquil life for her son, away from the violence that shadowed his father's endeavors. Yet, the instinct for the hunt coursed through his veins, and Armand chose to embrace the destiny laid out for him.
He could vividly recall the day his father vanished.
A routine mission to track down a rogue warlock had escalated into a bloody catastrophe.
His father had returned home only once after that tragic day, a mere shadow of the man he used to be, his body marked with deep scars, and his once unyielding spirit shattered. In his last moments, Armand's father entrusted him with his weapon, a silver-edged sword that had been passed down through the family for generations, and made him vow, "Complete what I began, son.
Never allow the darkness to prevail." Those words echoed in Armand's mind with every step he took.
The loss of his father had profoundly influenced the man he had become detached, practical, and relentless. Throughout the years, Armand had learned to accept orders without question. He had been conditioned to view the supernatural as a menace, something that must be eliminated for the protection of humanity.
Compassion had no place in his work; there was only the mission, the kill, and the aftermath.
Yet, beneath the surface, Armand was not devoid of emotion.
He experienced fleeting moments of doubt, brief visions of a different life, one free from the constant burden of responsibility.
However, these moments were scarce, and he swiftly buried them. There was no room for vulnerability.
Celeste, in contrast, had never experienced the tranquility of a simple life.
Born in the late 1600s in a small, forgotten village on the fringes of what would eventually be known as England, her arrival was marked by unusual circumstances. Her mother, a celebrated witch, had passed away during childbirth, leaving Celeste in the care of the village elders.
This secluded village, shielded from the scrutiny of the outside world, was a haven where magic flourished and practitioners were held in high regard.
While Celeste was much like her fellow villagers, one aspect distinguished her: she was truly unique even among those skilled in magic.
At just sixteen, Celeste was touched by a power much older than anything the villagers had encountered.
This curse bound her to an ancient, mysterious force coursing through her veins, marking her as more than human.
Her beauty, vitality, and very essence became timeless.
Yet, this gift had a steep price she was doomed to eternal life, forced to witness the loved ones around her age and perish while she remained unchanged.
Initially, the villagers admired her abilities, but as she defied aging, their awe turned to fear. Whispers of her immortality and dark magic trailed her, eventually leading to her ostracism and her flight from the village she once called home.
The centuries that followed were filled with loneliness and seclusion.
Celeste traversed the world, perpetually hiding and fleeing the repercussions of her curse. She wandered through Europe, encountering other supernatural beings vampires, werewolves, and witches but none provided the comfort she sought. Instead, they only highlighted her profound isolation.
Throughout her journey, she learned to suppress her emotions, desires, and human instincts. Love became a distant memory, along with any hope for redemption.
She existed as a creature of the night, shackled by the curse of immortality, destined to dwell in the shadows.
However, everything began to shift in Blackthorn. This town was unlike any other, where the supernatural reigned and the boundary between the living and the dead was alarmingly thin.
Celeste arrived seeking refuge, yearning to escape the darkness that enveloped her life. It was here that she first heard whispers of Armand Cain, the notorious witch hunter feared by every supernatural creature he encountered.
Initially, Celeste dismissed him as just another hunter, one among countless others she had eluded over the years. But as she learned more, her curiosity grew.
He stood apart from the rest. His reputation stemmed not only from his skill with a weapon but also from his resolute conviction, a passion that seemed to resonate with his very being.
She heard tales of his father's fall and how Armand had taken up the mantle of witch hunting after his father's demise, vowing to eradicate the dark forces lurking in every shadow. Yet, there was something in Armand's gaze, a vulnerability, a soul scarred by loss and responsibility that beckoned to her.
So it was no surprise that their fates would eventually converge.
Armand arrived in Blackthorn with a singular mission to unravel the mystery behind the strange disappearances plaguing the town.
It was said that those who vanished left no evidence no signs of struggle, no blood, only empty homes and lives erased as if they had never been.
The town itself was enveloped in a heavy silence, as if holding its breath, waiting for something. With unwavering determination, Armand was prepared to uncover the truth.
When he first spotted Celeste, she stood at the town's edge, watching the mist swirl around her. Her presence tugged at his very soul, making him question if he had finally come face to face with what he had hunted all his life.
But as their eyes met, something deep within him stirred a feeling he could not articulate, unsettling the tight grip of duty he maintained.
Celeste, too, felt the connection. It was as if their destinies had been woven together long before their encounter.
Although she understood the risks of trusting a hunter, she couldn't shake the thought that this time, perhaps, the narrative would unfold differently.