In a remote, moonlit forest far from any village, a small, weathered hut stood alone—Hanji’s solitary refuge. Here, under the pale glow of the full moon, the air felt heavy and uncanny. Crows cawed insistently in the treetops, their harsh cries echoing through the darkness, declaring this shadowed realm as hers.

Inside, Hanji busied herself in a cramped alchemy room, its walls lined with bundles of dried herbs and jars of unidentifiable powders—ingredients both rare and unsettling. Strange talismans and obsidian ritual tools lay scattered across every surface, lending the chamber an aura of whispered incantations and forbidden rites.

Murmurs of an incantation slipped from her lips as she wove a spell to perfect her potion. Then—silence. The rustling of leaves at the doorway, accompanied by a crow’s discordant, out‑of‑place cry, snapped her to attention. She knew at once that someone dared intrude.

Hanji seized her staff, its wood etched with living runes, and swung open the door. A sudden gust of her arcane power sent fallen leaves spiraling around her in a whirlwind. Her sharp eyes, glinting like moonlit steel, fixed upon the figure standing trembling at her threshold—a young woman, mud‑streaked and wide‑eyed with fear.

“What do you seek?” Hanji’s voice rang out, clear and commanding, cutting through the night’s hush.