When the rains fall hard and the ground turns cold, know that I, The Hag of Beara have come again. The old witch of Winter they call me as they moan. Have they forgot my suffering? All thoughts of my sacrifice, gone?

I am the one who brings mountains to life, revealing to those who came before, the lands you call home.

It must be deemed fair then that for all my giving I may take in return. So, keep your home fires burning bright, else it shall be your chiseller and crones whom I shall take this wintry night.

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