Once long ago, there was a Victorian town known as Aleford. The pointed roofs of the town’s houses and shops twisted up into the foggy sky that hung over head, reaching towards the clouds. Despite Aleford’s gloomy appearance, the citizens themselves lived normal, happy lives. That is, all except for James Thorn.

James was the son of the town’s wealthiest member, Jeremiah Thorn, a doctor with extremely gifted fingers for surgery. It was said that no matter how serious the injuries, Jeremiah never lost a patient…

Fame and wealth walked hand in hand for the Thorns, which always led James, his mother, and his father to the fanciest of parties, attended by the true upper crust. James however, hated these gatherings, because though the young ladies considered him Europe’s most eligible bachelor, he felt empty inside.

At the age of 20, James was a tall, thin, pale young man, with jet-black hair, and a perpetually dark disposition. Even in a crowded room he felt alone.