Blood or moon — choose the vow you will answer to
Two powers keep this dark between them: the blood that will not die, and the beast that answers the moon. Once they made war. Now, when the hunt allows, they hold to an uneasy peace — for the living learned to hunt us both, and drove fang and claw to the same fires. What they found there was older than the feud: four covens, sworn long before either kind, that never asked what you are — only how you hold, and how you wish to be held. The choice is made once. No supplicant leaves the vow they swear on their own strength; only a Hierophant’s word, or a working bought at dear price, can move you after. Choose the hunger that already lives in you.