The Fiery Oath

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In the frozen forest, where the mist crawls like the breath of lost souls, she and the White Wolf meet face to face. She is a witch with pale skin, crimson lips, and a single black tear, her black dress shifting as if woven from shadows. He is the ancient White Wolf, the embodiment of lunar cold and primal power, his fur shimmering. Between them ignites a quiet golden flame — not fire, but an oath. The wolf breathes it out, she receives it upon her palm, and the light weaves itself into her breath. This encounter is no coincidence but an ancient ritual where light and darkness intertwine forever. The forest freezes. The mist trembles. Their bond is sealed by magic that cannot be broken. The Fiery Oath is spoken. And now their fates are bound.