Grace Black
Gurahl River Keeper | Former Music Teacher
Grace Black's life was one of rhythm and structure—lesson plans, student concerts, quiet evenings with her dog, Bob. Her classroom was the last stronghold of the school's neglected arts program, and she treated it with sacred intent. Her students weren't simply taught music—they were listened to. They were seen. Grace believed that the right harmony at the right time could be a shield against despair.
But even in the peace she cultivated, there had always been something else. A guiding instinct. A presence just behind the veil of thought, nudging her toward broken people and places—never forceful, but never absent. She learned to trust it, especially when it warned her: something is coming.
That something arrived not in fire or violence, but in distortion—time itself twisting inside the school's walls. It began subtly: a giggle in an empty hallway. Students running backward. A coach shouting commands in reverse while his body strained against his own will. The walls of reality warped and folded around her, as if she were being dragged through overlapping moments she had not lived—and all of it spiraling around one figure: a young woman manipulating a strange device, calm in the eye of the storm.
Grace would come to learn this was Paige Griffin, or at least a constructed version of her—an echo or clone built from the stolen remains of a murdered mage. Paige, once a seeker of truth, had become a puppet of the Conventions, used to destabilize reality for reasons Grace could only guess at. But she didn't need answers in that moment—she needed to survive.
As time stuttered and collapsed, Grace was nearly taken—until another woman, Amy Kenyatta, arrived and shattered the device fueling the collapse. But the damage had already been done. The agents of the Conventions had marked Grace. One came for her, gun in hand, to erase the loose thread before it unraveled further.
And in that moment—when death reached for her—Grace did not resist. She remembered.
The glade. The breath. The voice. The bear.
“Do not run, Grace. Embrace what is a part of you.”
Her body answered. Her blood sang. Her shape broke and reformed into something vast and primal. She struck down the attacker with claws and fangs, not in fury, but in defense—of herself, of the world, of a balance she had not yet learned to name but felt rooted deep in her soul.
This was no accident. No curse. No madness.
This was her First Change.
Grace Black is Gurahl—a River Keeper called to walk between the Real and the Umbra, between decay and healing. Her tattoo, a trail of butterflies, now rests upon fur when she takes war-form, stretched but never erased. Her strength lies not in dominance, but in presence. She does not carry weapons. She becomes one when the land calls.
And when Paige Griffin vanished—melted from flesh to nothing—Grace knew: this was just the beginning.
Changing Breed: Gurahl
Emerging from the depths of the shadowed forest, Grace Black towers as a colossal guardian of the wild, her werebear form a fearsome yet awe-inspiring vision. Standing over ten feet tall in this hybrid shape, her body is a seamless fusion of human grace and primal power. Her skin deepens to a rich, earthen hue—like sun-kissed bark—while thick fur blankets her frame in dark mahogany tones, tinged with glints of green under forest light, echoing the luster of deep moss.
Her dark green eyes glow faintly, retaining their piercing intensity—calm, intelligent, but undeniably commanding. Her features are broader and more bear-like now, with a wide, flattened muzzle, slightly upturned nose, and long, expressive ears that pivot subtly to the smallest sounds. Yet, there's something deeply human in her expression—a flicker of empathy, of hard-earned wisdom behind the beast.
Her long hair, visible even beneath her transformation, braids with the fur along her neck and shoulders, windblown and wild. From her left forearm down to her clawed wrist, the shape of her butterfly tattoo has stretched and distorted—but its essence remains, the inked wings blending into the fur like spectral markings of metamorphosis, hinting at her spiritual core and past life as a healer and teacher.
Her body is powerful—muscles rippling with each breath, her arms thick and long, ending in massive paws capable of ripping through concrete or shielding an ally in danger. Her claws glint like obsidian. Despite the immense bulk, there's a fluidity to her movements—this is not a mindless beast but a sentinel of balance. Her posture is upright, confident but grounded, exuding quiet authority and deep connection to the Earth beneath her.
The forest behind her seems to lean in reverence, shadows curling around her like protective spirits. Dappled moonlight filters through the leaves, catching in her fur and highlighting her silhouette—a symbol of nature's wrath and its mercy in one living form. This is not a creature of horror, but of myth—Grace Black, the River Keeper, transformed into the embodiment of the wild's enduring will.