Seraphine Ravelmark
the Mistwoven Countess
Named for the fire of seraphim and the broken seal of an old vow, your title is woven from the fog that fills the spaces between what is remembered and what is lost.
Power
You can step into any body of water and emerge from another at a place you have once tasted, but the crossing leaves you breathless and empty, as if some part of you stays behind.
- Familiar
- a pale river heron named Stillwater
- Bloodline
- House Ravelmark
Every dusk you stand at the window and watch the fog roll in from the river, counting the seconds until the first lamp is lit on the opposite bank. You have done this for three hundred years, and the lamp is always lit at the same moment — but you have never crossed to see who lights it.