The Bitten and the Born

In the secluded depths of the world, hidden within a cabin shrouded in moss and mystery, the secrets that powerful figures wish to bury still linger. Amidst the moon's glow, the porch sparkled with luminous stones, while herbs hung to dry from the rafters, casting a warm ambiance around the resident. A forest witch resided there, lost in her incantations, adding ingredients to a small cauldron. As her chant intensified, smoke rose, electric currents filled the air, and her raven tresses seemed to levitate, the smoke turning ethereal green. Outside, leaves swirled, forming a protective circle around the cabin, echoing the witch's protective verse: "None can uncover my haven, hidden deep in the woods, away from wicked deeds and their pursuers. Here, I am forever safe." With a chill like an iceberg's icy core, his skin perfectly etched his form. In his hand, an envelope grasped, its seal intact – marked by the Elder Lords' sigil, imprinted in crimson wax. Delving his long, pale fingers, he broke the seal, revealing a single word within: "Urgente." Once more, his unique abilities were urgently summoned.