"Do you honestly think that your pathetic attempt at healing will change the fact that I am a monster?" Gillian whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with exhaustion and lingering agony.
He sat slumped in his leather-bound chair within the dimly lit confines of his private study. The scent of old parchment, expensive tobacco, and the metallic tang of dried blood hung heavy in the air. Outside, the night was shrouded in an oppressive silence, mirroring the turmoil that had recently consumed the Mourning Manor. Gillian stared blankly at the mahogany desk in front of him, his movements sluggish and heavy. His body felt as though it had been pulverized, a physical manifestation of the curse that had been tearing at his soul for years.
The memory of the ordeal still burned fresh in hi
