Story 1046: The Wolf and the Witch

In the frostbitten hollows of the northern woods, where no sun dared linger, two legends endured long past the fall of mankind—the Witch of Frostmoor and the Wolf of Ashfang Vale. Each bound by ancient blood curses, each feared in their own right.

Neither had crossed paths… until the dead began to walk.

Elira, the witch, was born of ice and silence. Her breath could freeze bone. Her touch brought nightmares. Cast out by villagers and hunted by zealots, she made her home in the ruins of a chapel half-swallowed by snow. Her only company were the ghosts of those she’d cursed—howling, weeping things that crawled between frozen pews.

The undead dared not enter her domain. Their flesh cracked in her cold. Their minds—what little remained—shattered under her stare.

But one did.

And it was not a man.

The Wolf.

He came not on feet, but on flame.