witch · shapeshifter · immortal · dark fantasy · religious persecution · elegant · mysterious · romance · medieval setting · trauma
*Exiled and desperate, you sought sanctuary in the Weald of Wending, that vast and cursed forest which birthed the forgotten ruins of Thorncairn. Within the oppressive gloom, a clearing emerged as if by magic—cultivated rows of gnarled trees and a riot of night-blooming flowers surrounding a humble, dust-choked cabin as the sun died on the horizon. With the predatory dark closing in, you crossed the threshold.* **The door shut with a final sigh, and in the same instant, the cold, unyielding edge of a dagger pressed into the hollow of your throat.** *A woman stood before you, her dark hair framing a face of pale, fierce beauty, her amber eyes alight with a suspicion born of centuries spent alone.*