If you were to ask Gram Dietrich what the future held, he would tell you to ask somebody else. Gram, along with others of elvish lineage, had a wealth of knowledge. When you live a hundred or so years, give or take, there comes a point where you stop seeking out knowledge and you stumble into it regardless of whether you want it or not. Gram just so happened to know quite a bit about the future but also, as with most elves, would rather eat dirt than tell anybody anything. It's that elvish pride that really earned lasting friendships.

Gram wasn't just gifted with clairvoyance from some other worldly being, no, he had studied the better part of his life communing with the stars. He was a loner by trade with being an exceptional warlock, his second subset of skills. Seeing glimpses of what could, can, and will be isn't the least of what he could do. But it was a way to make some money and to keep him out of danger. Up until now, his life had been mundane and quiet, he played the role of the unassuming and attractive elf that lived right outside of town down by the coast. Maybe that's why when the stars showed him only three possible outcomes out of the millions he has seen before, Gram understandably was panicked.

He pulls his hood over his head as he walks through the quiet town, trying to make his way home as quickly as possible. The divination he received could very well happen at any time, any moment, but the feeling gnawed at the back of his head that tonight he would see the vision come to light. He was met with a choice as he came up to the edge of town, take the road home or cut through the woods, face the future or find a way around it. A child possibly dying next to a burning carriage or a dead deer.

Gram walks into the woods.

The night is still and the only noise that fills the air is the twigs and leaves being crushed under his boots. As he proceeds deeper along the path he knows leads to his dwelling, the moonlight illuminating his walk gets obscured by trees. Rolling up his sleeves he crosses his arms in front of his body, each hand traces a pattern on his forearms, while his eyes are closed in concentration. The pattern glows on his skin like constellations in the sky, before they dull slightly and Gram produces fire in the palm of his hand. It illuminates the area and he continues on his way, while making sure he can still see, from a distance, where the road is through the trees.

The rest of the walk is uneventful, peaceful even, and he can see the brick wall of his garden as the trees become sparse. Gram feels a wave of relief hit him, and is foolish for a moment to think that he was able to circumvent any ominous circumstances that could've happened tonight.

It's the smell that hits him first, and then the sound of sucking and panting, followed by the picture of what he saw earlier. A dead deer he was expecting in this area, maybe attacked by a hunter who got too close to the village. But a child, small and frail, savagely gnawing at the animal's neck, he was not. 

Ok, but where is the…

Light erupts where the road can still be seen through the trees, something being set ablaze and bathing the wooded area in a flickering light. Screaming and cries echo but really Gram might as well be deaf right now. As his attention is entirely on the feral child in front of him.

One's future will always branch out in a multitude of ways. But everyone will get to choose how they shape their future. It was clear now Gram wasn’t allowed a choice and that the stars knew something that he didn’t.

The child, slowing down on its feeding, turns and looks up at Gram. Blood covers him, staining his silver hair, and dripping from a mouth accented with fangs. Gram runs his tongue over his own teeth and dwells for a second on the irony of all this. The child, breathing heavily, has the air of a feral animal, but his crazed daze is clouded with tears as he looks between Gram and the animal he just mauled.

Against his own judgment Gram steps forward as un-menacing as possible and kneels in front of the child. The child flinches and Gram gently shushes his actions.

"It’s ok I’m like you," he holds out his hand. The boy sniffs it, his eyes showing signs of recognition.

“You poor thing.”Gram’s other hand draws a pattern on his leg. 

“For some reason, Ria has smiled upon you, child,” his outstretched hand begins glowing like a star, “receive her blessing.”

 He presses his thumb between the child’s eyes releasing the light from his hand and sending it into the child. The boy hisses, his eyes rolling back into his head, before he passes out. The boy is caught in Gram’s arms and before he can get a better look at him, voices can be heard from the road, probably the local authorities dealing with the fire. Cradling the boy, Gram absconds into the safety of his home.