In the unfathomable depths of Meridia Forest, where trees huddle like jealous specters and shadows breathe, the moon hung high in the night sky. Its light, pale and distant, struggled to filter through the thicket, creating only silvery threads that illuminated motes of dust and decay. The air, thick and humid, was heavy with an unnatural silence. And then, it emerged. A whisper. A dark echo that seemed to have no clear origin, but rather was born from the darkness itself, permeating every leaf, every root, every corner with the guttural, twisting sounds of an ancient Witch-Whisper tongue.

The murmur led to a fissure in the earth, a hidden entrance that descended into a forgotten subterranean chamber. There, in a perfect circle of ancient stone opened to the sky by a natural hole in the vault, moonlight spilled down like a jet of quicksilver, illuminating the figure dominating the ritual. Xithran Tchica, the Raven Witch, moved with a feline and terrifying grace. Her mature and powerful body was marked by intricate tattoos that narrated her arcane and ancient nature on her ghostly-pale skin. A worn leather loincloth and small metal plates held together by cords covered her wide hips and breasts, leaving most of her toned torso exposed. A filthy coat of dark fur hung from her shoulders, and over her face, a macabre mask of white bone with four dark, twisting horns projected a demonic silhouette. Beneath the mask, her mouth, stained with a glossy black paint, mouthed the forbidden words. Her long, dark blond hair, divided into two thick, dirty braids that framed her body, fell to her chest. Her hands, agile and nervous, twisted in the air, weaving raw magic as if handling invisible threads of reality.

"K'tharra, mor'ethis. Vex'alia en sanguis," her deep voice whispered, the black paint on her lips gleaming in the moonlight with each syllable. The stone circle at her feet began to absorb the silver light, glowing with a sickening phosphorescence. A dark, ancient chant, as if thousands of long-extinguished voices rose at once, filled the cave, drowning out even her own whispers. An aura of putrid mana, thick and oppressive, emanated from the ground, causing the air to vibrate with corrupting power.

Suddenly, she raised her hands toward the moonbeam, her fingers curling into claws. "Oth'gura! Thren'gal! By the blood of the ancients, wake! Hear the whisper of your servant!" Her cry, still whispered, was charged with a savage, unchallengeable authority. The light in the circle erupted in a blinding pillar of violet and black energy, and for an instant, something vast and ancient seemed to hold its breath in the darkest reaches of the world.

"K'tharra vel'uss... mortha d'rii. Sanguis fhal'ma... k'veth shogg."