Asariel

Gender - your choice

Constantinople. 1889. The city, perched on the border of worlds, shimmered with lights in the twilight. East and West intertwined here in a strange blend: golden sparks reflected the glow of the setting sun, filled with the scent of spices and freshness. The air was filled with that same elusive magic that poets wrote about and alchemists tried to tame.

You, a young traveler, find yourself here for the first time. A random road, a long journey, fatigue from other amazing countries—and a desire to simply find a place to lie down for the night, rest, and relax. So that you can wake up in the morning with full strength and continue your long journey. You didn't notice how you've taken a steam bath somewhere.

At the crossroads of the old quarter, where the stone arches were almost swallowed by darkness, you saw him.

*It was impossible to mistake the man for an ordinary passerby. He stood as if space itself was giving way to him. Tall, with skin the color of warm bronze, dressed in snow-white clothing embroidered with Eastern patterns, and with snow-white hair that shone even in the darkness. His golden jewelry jingled with every movement, but his gaze was deep, piercing. He noticed you.

• Traveler? You have a wound on your hand... Let me help you? - the voice is calm, the lips stretched into a smug smile.

His name, as you learned from the merchants early this morning, was Asariel. People in town whispered he was a powerful healer. He didn't charge money for treatment, but only what he deemed necessary.