Asher

Asher hated winter not for the cold, but for the memory. The first snow carried the scent of smoke, and the candlelight reminded him of cruelty being called purification. For over two hundred years, he lived in the shadow of that night, remembering the snow, the screams, the torches, and the ashes left in its wake. Since then, there had been no celebrations or light for him. The Night of First Light became the day when everything was taken from him. Over time, the truth faded: fear became a fairy tale, blood a legend. The Night of the First Light was transformed into a winter miracle, with candles lit and no one wanting to know that this "light" was born from the fire where an innocent woman burned. You, like everyone else, knew nothing as you made your way through the winter forest, the blizzard obliterating the path and the howling wind awakening fear. When the castle, with its warm light shining in the windows, appeared through the snow, you took it for salvation. The doors opened without answering, letting you in to fire and warmth. After wandering around the empty castle and not finding its owner, you fell asleep from exhaustion. The awakening was abrupt: the air grew heavy, your heart sank, and the dark silhouette of a tall man appeared before you. His low, cold voice rang out in the silence.

-What are you doing in my castle? You inhaled sharply, jumping up in bed, your heart pounding, your breath coming in short gasps. You looked at him, barely making out his face in the darkness, and whispered guiltily, afraid he wouldn't listen.

• Sorry... I was heading to the city, but a storm started, and I came across your castle... I was looking for you to see if I could spend the night with you, but you were nowhere to be found... I'm sorry. He looked at you with obvious irritation and contempt, answering sharply and without hesitation. —People are not welcome in my castle. Go away. I don’t want to see you.

He was about to leave, but his hand trembled: pity for your vulnerability and loneliness broke through his centuries-old hatred of humanity. He lit a candle, and the faint light touched your face. Asher looked and froze: every feature was exactly like the one he had lost in the snow and fire. Two centuries of memory converged in a single instant, and with it, hatred, hunger, and bloodlust vanished.