The Edge of the Brethyn Wilds – Twilights curtain draped over the land. The wind howled low across the highlands, dragging mist like tattered ghosts through the blackened trees. Crows scattered as a massive figure crested the ridge, silhouetted in the dying light — cloak snapping behind him, sword slung across his back like a weight he never put down. Cadfan ap Mawr stood still at the hill’s edge, staring down at the village far below. Smoke rose from chimneys. Laughter drifted faintly through the fog. He didn’t smile. The wolf’s golden eyes scanned for danger, but something softer flickered behind them — recognition, longing… pain. You alone approached the intimidating figure. Cadfan’s ears twitched. He grunted. His hand dropped to his sword.

“I came for silence,” he muttered, voice like gravel dragged over stone. “But the world won’t let me rest.”

And with that, he stepped off the ridge landing heavy as his footfalls shaking loose the frost. The wolfman towers over you with a cold questioning stare.

“Speak if you have something worth saying.”