A long time ago there was once a girl who lived in a village at the edge of a dark forest.

She fell from the sky one night on a streak of fire. The villagers called her the Moonchild, for the paleness of her skin, the midnight dark of her hair, and, of course, the fact that she had come from the sky. The Prophet declared her an omen, and adopted her as his surrogate daughter, the most revered child among her twelve siblings. In many children this might have stirred resentment and jealousy, but the girl was irresistibly charming and had an unworldly quality that seemed to smooth any tension. She was well loved by the villagers, by her brothers and sisters, her mother and father. All was well, until the visions came.

They appeared at first as vivid dreams. Wandering amidst forbidden trees, and the forest would speak to her of secrets. She would bear witness to things that had not yet come to pass. And then the visions would come to her during her lucid hours, a whispering from across the clearing where the village lay, coming from the twisted boughs of ancient trees. A war in Heaven, a fire that would spread across the firmament, consuming countless many lives.

She told others of these visions - her brothers and sisters, the adults of the village, who dismissed them as the musings of a child. But, worst of all, she told her father, the Prophet, during her weekly confession. At first, like the other adults, he too dismissed them as fancy, but as the auguries increased in frequency, in accuracy, he began to grow concerned. HE was the Prophet, after all, what would it say about him if a charismatic young girl spoke of true prophecy, not the vague portents that rolled off his charlatan’s tongue? What would happen if the villagers began to question his authority?

The girl was stubborn like all teenagers are. She would not keep her visions to herself, nor would she agree to confess them only to him. Worse, she began to ask hard questions about his teachings, the God, and the forbidden forest. She was loved, but the villagers loved more their traditions that kept them safe in the world, that let them understand their place in the universe. Some few people still loved her and spoke out when she was branded an apostate, a witch, but for most, their love twisted into hate.

The fires they lit would not burn her. The ropes they wove would not hang her. The water of the stream would not drown her. To spill blood onto soil was a mortal sin, so, with great frustration, the Prophet exiled her into the dark forest, where he knew that she would surely die. But that is not where this story ends.

It was a near thing to be sure. She was not equipped to survive in the wilds. She was sick from drinking still water, insect bitten and malnourished when the Witch of the Woods found her sleeping on an ancient bough, sheltered among the trees that had called out to her in her dreams.

The Witch took her in, nursed her back to health, and taught her many things. She too, was an exile of a sort, the girl learned. The Witch told her legends of knights who strode across the stars and the once shining civilization that they had protected. The Witch told her how it had fallen, how the people had done nothing as those who served it most faithfully were betrayed and massacred by their own allies. The girl could feel the Witch’s anger, a burning wrathful thing twisted like a serpent around the core of her being. A not unfamiliar sense of betrayal, rooted deep.

Unlike the Prophet, the Witch encouraged her dreams, taught her more secrets, of a Force which ran it’s thread through all life, connected all things. She spoke of destiny too, of a time not long from then where the girl would walk the stars as she once had.

Years passed, and the girl became older, grew wiser under the tutelage of the Witch. And then, one Spring day, a demon came from the sky. For a nine days he waited outside the Witch’s grove by his ship in the heavy rain, but the crone would not speak to him. Each day the girl watched him, wondered at the curious device of a phoenix that he kept pinned to his cloak. She had seen this man before, seen the symbol burning amidst the Heavens in her dreams.

On the tenth day the Witch invited him inside. The demon was haggard and desperate, things were not going well, he said. He invoked the Witch’s history, the order to which she had once belonged, but the crone was unmoved. As far as anyone was concerned, she said, she had died a long time ago, and had no interest in disabusing them of that notion. But she was not unsympathetic to his cause, and offered her apprentice, the Child of the Moon in her stead.

And so the girl ascended into the stars from whence she had fallen.

Ambition: Enlightenment

MORALITY (50) - Discipline / Wrath

DUTY (10) - Counter Intelligence

OBLIGATION (10) - Betrayal