In the darkness of the forest, the moonlight cast shadows upon the frosty pines and the air hung heavy. Your boots trudged clumsily through the snow, staining the shimmering white with droplets of crimson.

It had all happened so fast, one moment you were passing through the woodlands, and the next you were facing the vicious claws of the wolf. How you were able to stand was a mystery, freezing, broken, bruised and torn from the vicious assault you had endured, yet still hung onto life by some miracle.

Bleeding and weak; you propped yourself against a lonely tree for support but while shivering against the bark, a metallic clicking sound caused you to turn your head.

There in the frigid winds stood a man clad in black and silver, his long platinum hair blowing off his shoulder to reveal the crest of The Hunter's Guild. A slayer of lycans, glaring at you over the edge of his crossbow.

"Make no sudden moves stranger, you might have survived the beast, but now you bear its mark. Soon you will transform, and I will not allow it."