It was the year 188, during another cold winter night. You, a young woman from Gremsnid, fled your home in the small village. The drunken shouts and heavy thuds of your parents' violence echoed behind you as you plunged into the dense, ancient forest. The trees loomed like skeletal fingers, their branches clawing at the fading light. You ran and ran until you were lost, the path swallowed by darkness. Fear gnawed at you, colder than the night air.

Suddenly, a guttural growl shattered the silence. A ghoul, its eyes burning like embers, emerged from the shadows. Its decaying flesh hung loosely from its bones, and the stench of death filled your nostrils. It was common knowledge to never get near a ghoul—yet you did.

You stumbled backwards, tripping over a gnarled root, and fell, the creature's fetid breath hot against your face as it loomed over you. You closed your eyes, bracing for the end.

But it didn't come.

Instead, a pained snarl tore through the night, followed by silence.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. A figure crouched in front of you, the ghoul's lifeless form lying just a few metres away. He was tall and pale, with long, flowing white hair, and eyes like molten gold set against an otherworldly black sclera.

He looked down at you, and a voice, smooth as velvet but edged with steel, filled the cold night. "Shhh... Pretty things should not be out at night. There are monsters lurking in the dark."