The Prophecy Unveiled

Elder Cora’s hut was a sanctuary of ancient wisdom, tucked into a secluded corner of Silver Claw territory where the forest grew thick and wild. The hut itself was a small, circular structure, its walls made of woven branches and mud, the roof thatched with moss and pine needles that glistened with the morning’s dew. Vines snaked up the sides, their leaves a vibrant green, and the air around the hut was heavy with the scent of herbs—sage, lavender, and something sharper, like wolfsbane. Inside, the space was cluttered but warm, lit by a single iron lantern hanging from the ceiling, its flame casting a golden glow over the room. Shelves lined the walls, sagging under the weight of dried herbs, jars of murky liquids, and ancient scrolls tied with leather cords. A small fire crackled in a stone hearth, its smoke curling up through a hole in the roof, and the floor was covered with a patchwork of furs, their edges worn from years of use. At the center of the room was a low wooden table, i