Ludmilla Obsidmere
the Wildroot Countess
Named for the beloved of the people who sank her roots into a lake of obsidian and never resurfaced.
Power
Root-thrum — you hear the slow, deliberate speech of buried things, and they cannot lie to you, but each conversation costs a handful of leaves from the nearest tree.
- Familiar
- a blind white serpent named Taproot
- Bloodline
- House Rootglass
They say you crawled up from the roots of the oldest oak, that you are the soil's dark heart made flesh. They say you were never born, but leached from the ground like a winter spring. You do not correct them. Let them fear you — it is better than the truth, which is that you were once a woman who loved a thing too deeply, and the earth loved you back in its own terrible way.