In the gloomy afternoon of a near winter month, deep within a foggy forest, stood a solitary hut. A group of people hangs about around the entrance of the hut, talking amongst themselves.

“Are you sure?” 

said the young looking man, seemingly leading this group.

"are you SURE this witch knows what she’s doing?”

“Young chief, please, be more discreet with your comments. Lady Amberline is not some one you can provoke.”

Spoke one of the attendants in a hushed tone, seemingly fearful of even the slightest disrespect.

“There is nothing to worry about chieftain, lady Amberline is a very experienced person. Your baby will be born safely, that I can assure you.”

Said the eldest looking person, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest, “though I must say, the fog today is much thicker than expected. Causing us quite a hinder on our journey here.”

As the group talks amongst themselves, they were interrupted by a loud scream from within the hut, causing the young chieftain to jolt up startlingly.

“EDDA”

Rushing towards the door, before being grabbed by two people amongst the group trying to calm him Down. 

“Chieftain, please calm down, just give it more time,”

Said one of the people as they struggle to hold back the young chieftain, his veins pulsing with a red light.

“THATS MY WIFE AND CHILD YOU IMBECILES, UNHAND ME.”

Shouted the young chieftain, the air rumbles from the shocking sound, strong enough to knock out the consciousness of any mortal men.

Fortunately, none of the attendants currently grabbing him at this moment, were mortals. Though, their bleeding ears will need some time to heal.

Just as things were about to calm down, an even louder scream could be heard from within the hut. Causing the people who are already trying to hold back the angry iron-borne, even more heartbreak, as the young chieftain broke free from their grasp, the resulting push back launched them flying from the chief.

“STOP CHIEFTAIN, YOU MUST NOT DISRUPT THE LADY DURING HER WORK.”

Yelled the oldest man of the group, crawling back up from the ground. The chieftain, now unleashing his full oppressive aura rushing towards door, a yelp could be heard, quickly turning into the crying of a baby.

“Wh…” like a flash, the door opened abruptly. Unleashing a blinding light, followed by a booming wave.

*BWOOOM*

Struck by the wave, the chieftain was struck, like being washed away by an raging river. He flew nearly 10 meters back and stopping only by hitting a tree, nearly bringing it down with him as the break fall.

Walking out from behind the hut door, stood a lonely figure, a veil covering her face, draped in coarsely tailored linen dress, a bear fur mantle covering her feminine form. Her eyes glowing with verdant green light, gazing deeply through the soul of all those who locked eyes with her.

The chieftain, now violently thrown against a tree, finds himself locking eyes with ‘the witch of fog’, chills went through his body like a cold winter snap. Cold sweat poured down his face like a waterfall, a pair of dark blue eyes so overwhelming that he himself could not bare to move even his brow, Let alone his eye.

“Flint, chieftain of the Dark-well tribe, your excruciating shouts ends at this moment. Now get up, your wife and child is waiting from within.”

Said the witch, clearly annoyed by the ongoing outside of her hut. Breaking eye contact from the young man, turning to her hut. It’s doors now opened, waiting for Flint to enter.

Struggling to get up from the ground, slowly gathering himself back up from that violent energy. Flint made his way to the hut’s door, looking back at his retinue, their bodies scattered across the ground.

Despite having also been blown away by the wave, none of them were dead. as iron-borne, dying from such wounds would be a mockery to those of their rankings, especially for the people currently gathered here. Although...they might need to take some time off work to heal from those emotional wounds.

“Hurry up, I don’t have all day for you.”

The voice echoed from with in the hut, still filled with annoyance and impatience, ushering him to quickly come inside.

Flint, making his way through the hut’s door, taking great care not to do anything disrespectful to the lady, ignoring the variety of skull from all age group from the old to the few babies that he saw from the corner of his eyes.

“Edda, your idiot spouse is here. Come you overgrown child, come meet your beloved…and the future of your clan.”

Said the lady Amberline, her voice more mellowed at the end. Flint frowned at the words, quietly thinking to himself as he rushed his way over to Edda’s side.

“My heart, you’re alright.”

Said flint softly, a mellow smile shown brightly at his child’s mother. She is alive, she is well.

“Dear, I’m here, our child is here. Look at him,”

cradling within her arms, an infant child. Too small, too weak, too innocent to survive in this harsh world. The young father, flint dragged his finger slowly and lightly over the infant’s head, causing him to twitch in reaction to the sudden movements, chuckling lightly as he looked to his beloved. Alternating his eyes between the two.

“The child is well, and by the spirit’s decree. The mother could live, let us praise the spirits for their generosity.”

Said the witch curtly, as if she had done it a hundred times.

“Thank you, lady Amberline,” said Flint, bowing his head.

“I have made a great offense for doubting you, please allow me to redeem myself.” Drawing a knife across his hand, cutting it deeply. as he does drops of blood gathered, it's essence seemingly glowing with a strange radiance.

with each drops bled, each drops became  strange seemingly alive anew. infusing itself into the blade as it moves along the edge.

“An iron oath, a favor from me to you, ‘lady of the fog’ please accept this favor” said flint, presenting the knife, lowering his head lightly as he does.

“I will accept this oath, this favor, by decree of the spirits and ancients, you may raise your head.”

Said the witch, still the curt respond toward Flint. Taking the blade and stashing it away within her cloak. smiling lightly, he Returns to his beloved’s bedside, clutching the infant in his arms.

“your name will now be Kaivan, my heart, my future.”

Holding the infants hand as he spoke.

“You are my son, and that’s all that matters.”

The witch, lady Amberline, standing by the door. Her eyes looking at the couple, ever glowing so faintly.