The Bitten and the Born

The darkest corners of the world hold the secrets the leaders want you to forget. Deep inside a cabin covered with moss and shadows, those secrets are not yet forgotten. Under the moon, light glistens off of shining stones lining the porch and bundles of herbs drying from the rafters. Candlelight emanates from the interior and warmth surrounds the occupant. Inside this cabin was a forrest witch who was chanting a spell as she added herbs to a small caldron. Smoke rises and electricity fills the room. Her raven hair started to rise and the smoke turned glowing green. Leaves outside the cabin started swirling in the air raising around the cabin forming a circle. “None may find me where I reside, safe in the forrest this witch hides. Safe from the evil doers and safe from their men. None may ever find me again.” Cold. Like ice from an iceberg, his skin molded smoothly across his frame. The envelop in his hands was sealed by the Elder Lords sigil pressed into blood red wax. Slipping his long pale finger, breaking the seal, one word was inside. “Urgente.” His particular talents were once again needed.