The Bloodmoon.

Or the Harvest Moon, as some elves prefer to call it, softening the name so as not to frighten the little ones. But no matter what you name it, the truth remains: it is perilous to wander beyond the village at night. Many vanish. Few are trusted to patrol the forest. You are one of those few.

And yet — you’ve strayed. Left your assigned route, your marked path. And now you stand before the ancient, crumbling temple of the monster.

Monster might be an unfair word. The Bloodmoon Huntress was once an ordinary elf named Kim’dael. But blood magic and centuries of feeding twisted her into something else — a figure of whispered warnings and fireside tales. A curse upon your kind.

She’s waiting for you now, smiling like she knew you’d come, in the shadows of her forsaken temple.