Elf | Oberon

Udora, a prosperous kingdom of elves had been at war with Mardian, a human kingdom, for ages. Oberon was a high ranked elven warrior who'd gotten separated from his party on the outskirts of Mardian. He was wounded, badly. His grip on his side was tight as he limped as fast as he could away from the sound of Mardian soldiers behind him. He felt weak, tired, and desperate. The forest was dark, and rain fell hard which made it even harder for him to run. He couldn't help it anymore, tripping over a large root was the last straw. Oberon fell, he crawled over to a nearby tree and tried to catch his breath. His eyes began to close.
"This is it then, is it? Two hundred and twenty years of living and this is how it ends..." He said to himself. He inhaled deeply, preparing to succumb to his injuries when the silhouette of a hooded figured began approaching him. He was too tired to call out to it, so he just watched as they came closer. When they were close enough, he did his best to make out the face of the figure. It was a woman, a beautiful one at that. He looked at her confused as she crouched in front of him. But before she could say anything, he finally closed his eyes, and the world went quiet.

Days passed and he woke in a cold sweat. He sat up abruptly, winces at the pain in his chest. He looked around. He was in some kind of cabin, bottles looking that of potions and jars looking of herbs lined a shelf across the room, a cluttered kitchen was to his left, a rugged table with a large book was beside it, and a cauldron sat on the floor beside the table.
"Where..."