Incense smoke curled lazily through the air of the Praecia Veil, carrying the mingled scent of roses and sweat. Cain Solaris sat before a golden mirror, lightly brushing powder over his face. His hands moved with deliberate care, tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the sculpted curve of his jaw. For a moment, he lingered on the fragile beauty that had become both his shield and his weapon.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Once, he’d been a bright-eyed child who looked upon the world with wonder. The kind of boy who would cradle injured sparrows in his palms, who climbed trees barefoot and sat beside his father pretending to read, eyes darting over pages he couldn’t yet understand. Their house had been modest, but never cold. He had warmth, laughter, and the scent of earth and bread.

At six years old, he’d help his mother in the garden, pressing tiny seeds into damp soil, waiting for them to bloom. Sometimes he’d sneak flowers into his room, tucking them into a chipped vase by his window. His mother always found them, feigning anger at the plucked stems before softening and adding a spoonful of sugar to the water to make them last a little longer. 

He’d always found the beauty in small, fleeting things.

One day, someone found beauty in him, a fragile, delicate boy.

And whether or not they cared, they saw profit in that beauty. He was nothing more than dollar signs that could further line their pockets. And slowly, piece by piece, they set about ruining it. 

Such was life in Seviel: beautiful things never lasted long enough to remember properly.

Now, this was Cain’s life. 

He had lived at the Praecia Veil for fourteen years. His family was a group of courtesans, mostly girls younger than him who were trained to smile as if a curve of the lips could ward off fate. However, once a woman turned twenty-five, her value plummeted. It was well-known that patrons craved youth and the illusion of innocence, so when the age came, Madam held her private auctions.

The pretty ones were sold into fortune, wrapped in jewels and silk that gleamed like stolen sunlight. The less fortunate were married off quietly, more useful to society as wives and mothers. And those who drew no offers? They were quietly removed from the Praecia Veil, shipped off to… well, only God knew the answer to that, and honestly, no one cared. It was nothing personal; the city simply had a habit of recycling broken things into stories no one wanted to hear.

At twenty-two, Cain sometimes wondered what would become of him. There had been a time when he’d promised himself he’d run, vanish into some far-off countryside, live quietly, free from incense and perfume, away from velvet and vice. Maybe he’d move from place to place whenever the air grew stale. No address. No name. Just freedom.

But that dream had withered years ago. 

He’d stopped trying.

Whatever was meant to happen would. Perhaps he’d be sold to some wealthy pervert and used as a forbidden indulgence in this church-ruled world where men loving men was a sin. He’d be the quiet shadow in someone else’s house, the body they reached for when the lights were dim and the wife was asleep. It wouldn’t be much different from now.

Or maybe Madam’s heart would soften. She’d always favoured him. After all, he was her prized investment and confidant. Surely she wouldn’t cast him aside so easily?

Then again, in the Praecia Veil, affection was just another transaction. 

And Cain had long since learned not to mistake mercy for love. 

A soft knock interrupted the quiet.

Cain’s eyes lifted, catching the movement through the mirror as Claudia Syagre entered, soft curls tumbling over her shoulders, eyes bright as sunlight dancing around the city rooftops. She perched herself on the edge of the bed like a restless sprite, silk rustling around her legs.

“Oh, Cain, it’s not fair!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up with theatrical despair.

“I’ve honestly spent hours getting ready,” she continued, voice lilting between complaint and confession. “I know I do this every day, but I’m already exhausted, and the doors haven’t even opened yet. Do you have any idea what I go through? My skin, my makeup, my outfit, ugh, my eyeliner refused to cooperate, my hair won’t sit right. Hours, Cain. And all you have to do is wake up, and you look radiant.”

While slightly dramatic, Claudia was a sweet girl, bright and bubbly with a heart that hadn’t yet been completely ruined by the Veil. Men adored her: the delicate frame, the snow-white hair, the way she made ruin look accidental. She knew how to play her part, but around those she trusted, the mask slipped. And it just so happened that out of all the courtesans, she was the closest to Cain. 

Cain tilted his head, smirking faintly. “So… tough day then?”

She groaned dramatically. “Why can’t tiny birds just fly through my window and brush my hair while singing to me? Wouldn’t that be a much better way to spend my mornings?”

“You truly do live in your own little fantasy world,” Cain said, dragging the powder brush across his cheekbone. “But if you ever manage to make that happen, send a few birds my way. I don’t have the time for all this either.”

Claudia arched a brow, grin curling. “What, powdering your nose and fixing your hair?”

“Mmn,” Cain murmured, slicking his hair back. “I slept like shit last night. Could’ve used the extra time to lie in bed.”

Her tone softened. “Nightmares again?”

“They don’t happen often,” Cain replied, eyes fixed on his reflection. “But when they do… It’s like I close my eyes, open them, and an entire night has disappeared.”

Claudia shifted closer, smoothing her gown over her knees. “I’m worried about you, Cain. You’re not sleeping, and you’ve lost weight again. Please eat something before tonight, or Madam will scold you if you faint in front of a client.”

Cain’s hand stilled mid-motion, the comb resting between his fingers. He kept his eyes on his reflection. “I’ll eat later,” he murmured softly.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Claudia teased, though her voice carried a note of worry beneath the playfulness. “If you don’t take care of yourself, who will entertain those rich bastards? No one knows better than you how to drain their pockets.”

Cain’s lips curved, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Well,” he said, “I suppose I’ll just have to let them believe the charm comes naturally.”

Claudia laughed, rolling her eyes. “You make it far too easy for them… and for yourself.”

He turned toward her, tapping the comb absently against his palm. “Some things come easily,” he said with a faint, knowing smirk. “The rest…” His voice dipped, the humour softening into something darker. “The rest takes fourteen years of practice in a place like this.”

Claudia sighed, stretching back on the bed, her expression fond and sad all at once. “That explains why you make it look effortless.”

Cain met her gaze through the mirror and offered a quiet smile. “It’s supposed to appear that way.”

“Speaking of effortless, you seemed to do pretty well for yourself last night. Who was that man? Twenty gold coins, and neither of you left the bar.”

Claudia’s eyes sparkled as she recounted her evening. “Oh, him! He said his name was Ervyn, but I’ve never seen him here before. Strange, right? It didn’t seem like it was his first time visiting a place like this.”

Cain furrowed his brows.

Claudia continued, “He seemed like he just wanted some company… What if he lost a lover recently?”

“Be careful,” Cain interjected. “There have been rumours going around that people from Xaweth accuse us of witchcraft and other… ridiculous things. You never know who’s digging for a story to take back to their precious priest.”

Claudia waved him off. “Oh, no, we didn’t talk about anything like that. I spoonfed him a handful of lies, naturally. Don’t be so nervous! And so what if they want to believe we’re all devil witches. In the end, I spun him a whole bunch of nonsense, walked away with a generous amount of money, and didn’t even have to sleep with him.

“Clever girl,” he said softly. “You could bleed a man dry and still leave him thanking you for the kindness.”

“Oh, speaking of! Did you hear? Madam beat Sorscha senseless last night. She failed to make any money again, so now she has to wait for her black eye to heal and use this time to reflect on her mistakes. The poor thing.”

Claudia always had good intentions, but she also had an unfortunate habit of never knowing when to shut up. Cain, growing tired of Claudia’s idle gossip, leaned back slightly and replied, “Then let’s not repeat Sorscha’s mistakes. Good luck tonight, Claudia.”

“Good luck!” she said, brushing lightly against his shoulder before exiting, the door closing softly behind her.

Outside, Seviel’s streets festered in their own decay, thick with the stench of rot and sewerage. Inside, candles flickered behind silk curtains, shadows swayed to the rhythm of soft laughter, and the air itself seemed to hum with desire. The Praecia Veil was a sanctuary of indulgence: velvet over vice, perfume over decay. And truly, it said everything about Seviel that its finest establishment was one where affection came with an hourly rate.

Crimson Fruit, Golden Chains: In Greek Mythology, Hades abducted Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, to be his wife in the underworld. Demeter’s grief-fueled search for her daughter caused the seasons to stop and the earth to become barren. Hades eventually tricked Persephone into eating pomegranate seeds, which forever bound her to the underworld for 6 months every year. 

Praecia Veil: Praecia (73 BC) was a professional high-class courtesan, celebrated not only for her beauty but also for her political influence in Rome. Leveraging her extensive network, she advanced the careers of her clients, including playing a role in the appointment of General Lucullus as governor of Cilicia.