Morwenna Cryptwood
the Stormcrowned Countess
Named for the white sea-foam that hisses against the roots of the drowned forest, and the hollow oak where the crows keep their council.
Power
You see the world as a skein of lightning-threads connecting all living things, and you may pluck a thread to send a quiver of dread through any heart within a mile. But each thread you pull leaves a crow's feather beneath your skin, and they do not fall away.
- Familiar
- a black fox named Soot
- Bloodline
- House Cryptwood
They say your carriage is drawn by horses that do not breathe, and that the wheels leave no track in mud. You do not correct them. The truth is stranger: you ride a single crow the size of a wolf, and the roads remember you only as a scent of ozone and wet leaves.