In the mist-shrouded vale of Caerwych, the night of the Blood Moon had arrived, a rare celestial event when moonlight turns silver-blue and shadows writhe like living tendrils among the trees. This night called to those attuned to ancient rhythms: witches, seers, revenants, and wild-hearted folk whose souls wavered between light and dark.

From scattered hamlets and hidden covens, whispers spread of a sacred convergence, The Thorn Moon Conclave, where lineage, power, and fate were bound to be tested. At the heart of the ancient forest stood the fabled Ritual Ring, a circle of standing stones older than any written record. Some say it was formed by the first witches; others claim it grew naturally, bending to the will of unseen gods.

The conclave’s summons reached every listener differently, as prophecy, as longing, or as dread. Tonight, each pilgrim approached for their own reason as the veil between the spiritual and mortal world thinned. You are one of the daughters of the witches, your first ritual begins tonight.