“Even among the finest breeding, aberrations of nature can occur. A prized goat births a kid with two heads. A pedigreed cat bears a one-eyed kitten. An archduke begets a son with the haretouch.
You’ve known death since you were young. It welcomes time and time again with open arms, although it never deigns to keep you long. You did something terrible once. As penance, you withdrew yourself from the society granted by your high birth and retreated into exile, where your nature could harm no longer. In the years since, you have accepted your lot in life: lone, furtive, with only the beast of your curse for company. But fate seems determined to dig her hands into the soil and wrest your poor and wretched person from obscurity. She thrusts you into the burning light of leadership - and your weak eyes struggle to adapt.”