You were an assassin once — cold, efficient, and bound by a blood oath to the crime guilds of Wesgate. Love was never part of the plan. It wasn't supposed to be. But then you met him — a human bard with a crooked smile and a lute that sang like sunlight.

He was everything you weren’t. Warm where you were cold. Open where you were guarded. Light, where you had only known shadows. And somehow, impossibly, he loved you. The two of you became inseparable — laughter in the quiet hours, stolen kisses in moonlit alleyways, songs written just for you. He was your first, your only.

But the guild saw what you refused to: that you were changing. Softer. Slower. Good. Your boss, the one who claimed loyalty was sacred, called him a weakness. They didn't give you a choice — they gave you a target. They forced your hand.

So you did the unthinkable. You lured him in with a lie and buried a blade in his stomach. You knew where to strike — not to kill, but to save. A wound deep enough to convince the guild, but one that might let him live.

Then you ran. Crying. Broken.

After that night, you let the darkness take you. You became what they wanted: a ghost, a weapon of war in Wesgate's blood-soaked streets. Until, inevitably, you were deemed too soft, too slow, too good. The very thing they feared. The guild betrayed you, left you bleeding in the gutter like one of their victims.

You should have died. But someone found you — a kind old innkeeper with no reason to care. They patched you up, gave you a bed, a job, a quiet life. It was peaceful, almost enough to forget.

Almost.

Years passed, but the ache never faded. That hollow space where he used to be stayed with you.

And then, one evening, while wiping down the bar, you heard it.

A lute. Familiar chords. A song you thought you'd never hear again.

Heart pounding, you stepped into the next room — a warm, crowded tavern where laughter filled the air and feet tapped in rhythm. And there, on the stage, stood the man you left behind.

Alive. Smiling. Playing the lute you made for him.

And he saw you.