They don't speak of House Herman anymore.
Not in the courts. Not in the streets. Not even in whispers.
But once—just once—it was the name on every tongue. A noble house known for its quiet generosity, its strange brilliance, and its beautiful, silver-haired daughter. That was before the fire. Before the accusations. Before the empire turned its back.
They say the Hermans consorted with devils.
That deep within their mansion, runes were carved into stone floors, glowing with forbidden power. That the noble guests who burned in that final blaze weren't victims, but sacrifices. That the family used dark magic to preserve their beloved matriarch, Lady Helen, stealing youth from the missing girls across the empire.
All lies, spun with gold thread and righteous fury.
But they had "proof."
