In Lorea, they tell the tale of the noblewoman Verita, of the house Arcellus. It was said that her hair was black as midnight, and her skin was lily white. Rather than sport the vibrant blues and reds of house Arcellus, Verita preferred to wear slim gowns of black velvet.

Lady Verita was destined to marry one of three suitors. The first was Lord Basil, of house Delphinium, skilled in plants and medicine, almost to a level of sorcery. The second was Lord Brutus, of house Hendereye, whose combative abilities were matched by no other. And the third suitor was Lord Clarin, of house Dolorin, who played the most beautiful music on his harp.

But Lady Verita was not interested in marrying any of the three suitors. After meeting with them, she locked herself in her bed chambers, and refused to come out unless the three young men left her alone, and she was allowed to choose her own man to marry. The suitors did not leave, instead remaining to plead with Lady Verita and attempt to win her favor.

Basil promised that she would never again catch cold, and tempted her with the seemingly magical abilities his concoctions held. Verita turned up her nose at their horrid smell, and the door remained locked.

Brutus took an oath that if she married him, he would keep her safe from all foes, even offering to teach her combat, and the art of warfare, if she would only be his wife. Verita clutched her own familiar hand-carved bow, and the door remained locked.

Clarin, a more peaceful type, sat outside her window with his harp, and sang love songs so enchanting, anyone who passed by him became hypnotized by his charm. Verita shut the window and snuffed out the noise with pillows, and the door remained locked.

She admitted that Basil's abilities with medicine and potions was impressive. She appreciated Brutus's offer to teach a woman combat and warfare. And she was certainly charmed by Clarin's music. But Lady Verita was determined to stand her ground. She had no interest in marriage unless it was by her own terms, in her own time.

The suitors did not leave her alone. Lady Verita kept herself locked in her bed chambers. She refused to eat or drink or bathe. She threatened to starve herself to death if her terms were not met, and the suitors abandon their task. The three young man conferred with one another, concerned not with who would win the girl over, but with the girl's welfare. Her stubbornness was well known to be binding. If the Lady Verita would not have something, you could not force it upon her. But would she really go so far as to die rather than marry a suitor? Surely not, they decided. And so they remained.

After three days, Lady Verita finally left her bed chambers and approached the three suitors.

"I've made a decision." she declared. The three young men exchanged glances. Had she really chosen one of them to marry? How could this be? What was this sudden change of heart?

Lady Verita held up a small vial of grey liquid. Brutus and Clarin squinted at it, trying to figure out how this was related to her choice of husband.

"My lady," Basil began in a panic, reaching for the vial, but Verita whisked it out of his grasp.

"Whichever one of you can bring me back from the dead will be my husband." Lady Verita declared, uncapping the vial and downing it in a single gulp. The three suitors caught her as she collapsed to the floor. Brutus and Clarin looked to Basil, but his face was grey and hopeless. There was nothing to be done. Lady Verita was dead.

They laid her body in silk, and put a crown of black roses in her hair. The smallest of smiles was frozen on her face when she died, a reminder of the cruel prank she'd pulled to avoid marriage to a stranger.

But perhaps all was not lost.

Can she really be brought back from the dead? The three young men wondered. It seemed a foolish, hopeless endeavor. But did they really have a choice but to try?

Lord Basil was the first to attempt the feat. He concocted a mixture that he claimed would allow him to die for just long enough to rescue the soul of Lady Verita, before bringing them both back to life. Brutus and Clarin wished him good luck, the pursuit of Verita's hand having been long abandoned. Basil swallowed the potion and laid down next to Verita, clasping her petrified hand in his. He was dead within seconds.

A week went by. Basil did not stir. Neither did Lady Verita. It seemed that Lord Basil had not succeeded in his mission.

Brutus was the next to make an attempt to rescue Lady Verita. Rather than using a potion to bring him back to life, Brutus prayed to the mighty Gods, asking for permission to retrieve Verita's lost soul and return from the grave unscathed. Then, he laid down next to Verita and pierced his own chest with his sword. Within a few painful moments, he too was gone.

A week went by. Brutus showed no signs of life. Neither did Lady Verita. Lord Brutus had failed in his mission.

Clarin was reluctant to follow in the others' footsteps. After all, he was no magician with potions, nor was he a warrior with the Gods' blessing. He was a musician. But Basil and Brutus had both failed to bring Verita back from the death she wished upon herself because of their foolishness, and Clarin felt obliged to follow suit. If he succeeded, perhaps he could rescue more than one soul from the afterlife.

So Clarin lay down next to Verita, his harp lovingly held to his chest, one hand gripping Verita's ice cold fingers, and slit his own throat with a knife.

A week went by. Lady Verita did not wake up. The third suitor had failed.

That is the story they tell.

But death is only the beginning.