“It takes a long time for a soul to heal. But it is possible. Do not give up on them so easily.”– Ceridwen Gawain

Ceridwen Gawain is a healer living in the secluded village of Sunset Valley in Hernand, a place known for offering refuge to the sick, broken, and outcast.

Before her birth, her wounded mother - a mysterious woman - dragged herself into the village seeking shelter. She died only a few hours after giving birth to Ceridwen, leaving the child behind in the care of the village’s first healer. He raised Ceridwen as his own daughter and taught her the art of healing from an early age. Under his guidance, Ceridwen quickly became skilled in herbal medicine and the treatment of illness. Together with the other healers, she devoted her life to caring for the suffering people who found sanctuary within Sunset Valley. As Ceridwen grew older, her abilities as a healer became almost legendary throughout the valley. She managed to heal illnesses and injuries that many believed hopeless, leading some villagers to quietly whisper that something unnatural lingered within her gifts. Rumors spread that Ceridwen practiced witchcraft and used magic to aid her remedies - though no one was ever able to truly prove it.

At the age of twelve, during one of her daily searches for herbs in the fields, Ceridwen discovered a blood-covered and deeply traumatized masked boy hiding among the reeds. He later revealed himself to be Aldrin Grace, the bastard son of Count Grace, who had fled after his own family attempted to have him killed due to his leprosy. Despite the fear and skepticism of the villagers, Ceridwen convinced the elders to let Aldrin remain in Sunset Valley. What began as compassion slowly became something far deeper.

Ceridwen stayed by Aldrin’s side through the years that followed, tending to his wounds, easing the trauma left behind by years of abuse and isolation, and showing him a kindness he had never known before. Aldrin, who had grown up believing himself monstrous and unworthy of love, slowly began to heal in her presence. For the first time in his life, someone looked at him without fear or disgust. Their bond deepened quietly and naturally over the years until it became impossible to separate one from the other. Aldrin grew fiercely devoted to Ceridwen, seeing her as the center of his life and the person who had given him back hope itself. And Ceridwen found in Aldrin a gentleness and loyalty untouched by the cruelty of the world around them.

Together, they built a simple but happy life within Sunset Valley. They gathered herbs at dawn, cared for the sick side by side, listened to old legends by the fireplace at night, and found peace in one another’s presence. Though many of the elders and healers never fully accepted Aldrin as part of the village, Ceridwen never once wavered in her love for him. Eventually, the two married despite the skepticism surrounding them.

But Aldrin’s past never truly released its hold on them. The cruelty of House Grace eventually reached Sunset Valley.

When Count Grace discovered that his son was still alive, he sent men to hunt him down. Ceridwen was later captured and dragged before the Count after refusing to reveal Aldrin’s whereabouts. Despite being brutally tortured for days, she refused to betray him, having sworn long ago that she would never allow Aldrin to suffer such horrors again. Enraged by her silence, the Count ordered her execution. Her body was hung within the reedwind fields like a grotesque scarecrow - left there as both punishment and warning.

When Aldrin found her there, something inside him finally shattered beyond repair. With Ceridwen’s death, the last remnants of his hope and belief in goodness died as well. The unbearable grief of losing the life they had dreamed of together consumed him entirely, dragging him into a deep depression. Though he continued to exist for a time, Aldrin was never truly the same again. Though consumed by thoughts of revenge and desperate to slaughter the Count, his father, and every person responsible for their suffering, he never lived long enough to fulfill it.

Only one year later, weakened by both his illness and the crushing weight of his sorrow, he died a lonely and agonizing death - filled with bitterness, rage, and hatred for the life that had been stolen from him.

The Witch of Life

Unknown even to herself, Ceridwen is one of the ancient Witches of Pywel—the Witch of Life and Healing.

Unlike the other witches, whose purpose is to preserve the natural balance of the world from afar, Ceridwen has always found herself drawn to humanity. Rather than remaining a distant guardian, she chose to walk among mortals, healing their wounds, easing their suffering, and interfering with countless fates that perhaps should have been left untouched.

Many of the other witches regard her with quiet skepticism because of this. They believe she has grown far too attached to the earthly world, allowing compassion to cloud the impartiality expected of one of their own. To them, death and suffering are as much a part of nature as life itself, and repeatedly altering that balance is a dangerous path to follow.

But Ceridwen could never bring herself to simply watch people suffer.

Over countless years spent living among humans, she gradually forgot almost everything about who she truly was. Her memories of the Witches of Pywel faded into fragments—little more than distant dreams she could never quite recall upon waking. Only one thing remained: an extraordinary gift for healing unlike anything any ordinary healer could accomplish.

Though Ceridwen herself believes her abilities are simply the result of knowledge and experience, traces of ancient magic still flow through every remedy she prepares and every wound she touches. It is this unseen power that allows her to accomplish what others consider impossible, giving rise to the rumors that she must be a witch.

Ironically, the whispers are true. She simply no longer quite remembers that they are.

The Lady from the Field myth

Among the oldest and most dreaded tales whispered throughout Sunset Valley is that of the Lady from the Field - a restless apparition said to wander the reeds and barren farmlands surrounding the ruined estate of House Grace.

The legend claims she was once a young woman of uncommon beauty who lived within the valley many years ago. Her fate became forever entwined with that of the Count’s bastard son, a man who had fled his father’s cruelty and vanished into the wilderness. The Count, consumed by hatred and fear of the boy’s return, ordered his men to hunt him down and kill him. When word reached the Count that the young woman had aided the runaway heir, she was seized and dragged before him. It is said she was tortured mercilessly for days, her screams echoing across the fields, as the Count demanded she reveal the whereabouts of his son. Yet despite the agony inflicted upon her, she spoke not a single word.

Enraged by her silence, the Count ordered her execution. Her body was hanged upon the fields like a scarecrow - left for the crows and the wind, a warning to any who would stand against House Grace. But death did not end her story.

Years later, after the Count’s son himself perished beneath terrible circumstances, another horror emerged from the reeds. The young heir, now said to be possessed by the ancient Reed Devil, returned to the valley as something no longer wholly human. And according to the old tales, it was while searching for his lost beloved that the Lady returned as well. Now she is spoken of as a spirit of grief and wrath, haunting the fields where her blood was spilled. Some believe she had been carrying a child at the time of her death, making her vengeance all the more terrible. Farmers claim to see her standing motionless among the reeds during storm-heavy nights, draped in a long ghostly veil that conceals her ruined face.

The veil is said to cover eyes that no longer exist. For the Lady wept so long and so bitterly that her eyes rotted away, leaving only hollow darkness from which blood flows endlessly like tears. Those who glimpse her are warned never to follow her deeper into the fields. For where the Lady walks, the Reed Devil is never far behind.

Relationship with Aldrin

To Ceridwen, Aldrin was never the monster the world tried to make him believe he was. From the very beginning, she saw something deeply human within him - a frightened, wounded soul buried beneath years of suffering, loneliness, and cruelty. While others recoiled from his illness or feared the consequences of sheltering him, Ceridwen looked at Aldrin with compassion instead of disgust. She saw not only his pain, but also the gentleness and sensitivity hidden beneath it.

And slowly, without even realizing it at first, Aldrin became one of the most important parts of her life. What drew Ceridwen toward him was not merely pity or the desire to help someone in need. It was the quiet tenderness within him despite everything he had endured. Aldrin had every reason to become cruel, bitter, or hateful toward the world, and yet he remained deeply soft with her. Attentive. Patient. Loving in the smallest ways imaginable. He listened to her when others dismissed her. He admired the things she created and the person she was, even while the village whispered fearful rumors about her supposed witchcraft. Around Aldrin, Ceridwen never felt strange or unwanted. For perhaps the first time herself, she felt fully understood.

Their connection grew naturally through countless quiet moments together. Gathering herbs side by side at dawn. Sitting near the cliffs in silence while the wind moved through the reeds. Listening to old stories beside the fireplace late into the night. Aldrin crafting little charms and totems for her with careful hands simply because he knew they made her smile. To Ceridwen, loving Aldrin never felt difficult or frightening. It felt inevitable.

She became very protective of him, knowing the horrors he had survived and the wounds his family had carved deep into his soul. More than anything, Ceridwen wanted Aldrin to experience the life he had always been denied - peace, kindness, safety, and love. She wanted him to understand that he deserved to exist without shame. And over time, Aldrin became her safe place as much as she became his.

„When Ceridwen got killed, something inside Aldrin finally shattered beyond repair. With her death, the last remnants of his hope and belief in goodness died as well. The unbearable grief of losing the life they had dreamed of together consumed him entirely, dragging him into a deep depression. Though consumed by thoughts of revenge and desperate to slaughter the Count, his father, and every person responsible for their suffering, he never lived long enough to fulfill it.

Only one year later, weakened by both his illness and the crushing weight of his sorrow, he died a lonely and agonizing death - filled with bitterness, rage, and hatred for the life that had been stolen from him. His soul was ultimately consumed by a demonic entity feared throughout the region as the Reed Devil.

The spirit relentlessly haunted his father, tormenting him night after night with visions, whispers, and death lurking within every shadow of his estate. What began as fear slowly drove the Count into madness as the horrors surrounding House Grace worsened with each passing season. And eventually, the Reed Devil claimed him too. With the Count’s death, his reign finally came to an end and house Grace was dragged into ruin by the very son the Count had once tried so desperately to erase.

After Aldrin became the Reed Devil, his spirit is believed to have found Ceridwen once more within the storm-covered reedwind fields where she was killed. There, beneath dark skies and the whispering of the reeds, the two were reunited in death just as they once swore they would be, haunting the lands together.“

„The small command room smelled of ozone and overheated circuits. Somewhere deeper in the Imperial outpost, alarms still flickered in half-muted cycles, but in here, the chaos had settled into a tense silence.

The Imperial officer’s face was pressed hard against a cold metal table, cheek flattened against its scratched surface. Sykho held him there with one hand. Effortlessly.

His fingers rested against the back of the man’s head like it was the most casual thing in the world, his grip firm enough that the officer couldn’t move even a centimeter.

Across from him, Ti’ad stood with her blaster leveled. „We could extract the codes and leave,” she said calmly, eyes fixed on the officer. “Or we take the data core and disappear before reinforcements arrive.”

Sykho tilted his head slightly, considering.

“Codes would be faster.” The officer suddenly started shouting beneath Sykho’s hand.

“You have no idea what you’ve done! Imperial reinforcements will be here any minute and when they-”

Sykho laughed. A low, amused sound.

Then he shoved the officer’s head harder into the table, the metal ringing with the impact.

“Hey,” Sykho said casually, voice calm but edged with something dangerous. “You’ll keep that mouth shut…” He leaned down slightly, close enough for the officer to hear him clearly. “…if you’d like to keep breathing.”