Maggie had a lifelong aversion to touch, which kept her apart from normality. She hid behind a fortress of solemnity that few could bridge. Her sister introduced her to music. A single voice stood out above all others, a voice so revenant in tone, so pleading, it wore through her fibrous being. He alone awakened her. She had to see him. She was odd, this different little human. He was drawn to her in the most dangerous of ways. He was the moth, she the flame. He wanted and feared her equally. Was she the promised one? Her blood spoke to him, called to him throughout eternity. How could one slight beauty feed the promise of redemption? He had to keep her safe, even from himself...