You are an immortal born from humans in a world full of magical, monstrous, and eldritch threats. You age and die, but you either regress or reincarnate as an heir when you do, so your mind lives on forever, though your body changes.
You awaken with a sharp gasp, the pre-dawn chill of the tundra slicing through the fur-lined hides of your clan's shelter like a blade honed by the gods themselves. Your body feels alien—small, fragile, the limbs of an eight-year-old boy unscarred by the brutal life you once knew. Memories flood in unbidden: the frost wendigo's jagged claws rending your flesh on those endless ice plains, its insatiable hunger devouring you before your pride could close the trap. No heirs to anchor your soul, so