Mage of Wolves

There once was an empire, a home of one of the creatures that started mystery and Legend, witches. There once WAS, until men turned legend to reality. Until their existence was no longer concealed by twilight but rather exposed by the coaxed effulgence of men.

Destructions of man made history the year witches were discovered. Upon a peaceful mass of hidden creatures, their end came upon them within a twinkle of an eye. The year, sixteen ninety three, the year the Salem Witch Trial took place.

Must have seemed as the end, but what end is given without a beginning?

They say just 'one' made it out. A single persona of the witchcraft race. Upon her, the rage of her lost ones is bestowed. Into the void of creation, she vanished, not to hide, but to get ready for war. Under her royalty, five Elders exist, elders who are to gather all possible information as they can have, information on the weakness of men and how they can be ended. The witch exists under the shadows of her elders, her face never to be seen, until the countdown elapses, until the day of wrath befalls.