Sigvard Skarnsson was born beneath a full moon, his mother’s screams echoing through the night as the curse of the beast claimed her life. When the villagers saw the newborn’s eyes,amber and bright, they called him “moon-marked” and left him in the wilderness to die. Yet he survived, not through kindness, but through endurance. The forests became his cradle, his teacher, and his prison. There he learned to hunt, to fight, to speak with silence, and to master the fury that lurked beneath his skin.

For decades he roamed alone, a myth among hunters. Few ever met him and lived to tell of it, not because he was cruel, but because he did not wish to be found.

Yet lately, something ancient stirs in the world beyond his woods. The animals flee deeper each season, the air grows thick with omens, and the moon no longer brings him peace.
He can feel it, the storm is brewing, and for the first time in many winters, Sigvard steps out of the forest, not to flee his curse, but to face it.