My family is proud and ancient. Our name is written in the hall of fame of heaven. Each offspring of the Alraun clan has been a beacon of hope for the world. The history of my kin has been written with the blood of the greatest warriors, the finest craftsmen, the most inspired poets and the boldest travellers. We are part of the fated victory of light against darkness.
And yet, I have failed. I have stained the roots of my bloodline. I have seen what must not be seen, desired what must not been desired. I am cursed. The deeds of my heart shall bring us to an end.
For how—how can I refuse to see her? How can I banish her from my thoughts? The night was created, above all, to praise her face in the moonlight. God’s plan was made to lead all men towards her insurmountable beauty. She is the beginning and the end, the path by which we all shall be saved. And still, she is indomitable as a tempest; her eyes mirror the power of lightning; her flesh awakens the dark pulses of my mind. O, Acacia, lovely Acacia, the tree that cannot be touched. Your name is full with my destiny. My days are full of reveries, my nights crowded with nightmares of you and me together in the meadows. Why, in the name of God, were you born to be my sister?
I must find a cure for this disease. I cannot disrupt the divine plan with these sinful fantasies. I shall seclude myself for the rest of my days. No one shall hear my name again, not beyond the walls of Blackmound Abbey. There I shall, in silent prayer, slay the demons that have tainted the mighty name of my kin. There I shall, in close communion with God, bring this horrible curse to an end.