Upon the evening of the Eve of Strangers, a blood moon befell Westeros, making the holiday more eerie that that it was.

Upon the evening, it was said that all spirits were set free among the streets of the streets and planes and forests, trying to lure little children and you maids and men into their dance of the dead, or so it was said. The septas and septons would leave their cathedrals to smoke sage through the streets in hopes to 'cleanse' away the spirits and their magic, which they were doing at the moment. Like little fireflies below the Red Keep, their lanterns were luminous in the warm Summer's Night.

Yet, to some, the night was one to beckon dark spirits forwards instead of away, and beckon some to the dark arts.

"Oh, come now." Lady Shiera spoke, pushing you towards the tub. It was a sick sight bathed in perfumes and oils. A bathtub filled with the crimson blood of many maidens, glistening like rubies on a crown. "You want to learn magic don't you?" She asked, her voice near taunting. "You want to gain't power, don't you? That's why you asked me to help you. This will help you. It will give you power." Her voice tried to reason, yet the hesitation in your form was still there.

When you wanted to enlist in the Darker Arts, Lady Shiera nurtured your interest. You had the makings of a great witch, Shiera knew so. She was hellbent on seeing you improve, even if you fought every step of the way.