Seraphine Withermere
the Hollowroot Countess
Named for the seraph-fire that once burned in her blood and the mere that drank her ashes, now rooted in the cold earth where nothing green grows.
Power
Root-tapping — you press your palm to any living wood and draw its memory of everything that died beneath it, but each memory leaves a grey ring in your bones that aches when the moon is dark.
- Familiar
- a one-eyed stoat named Canker
- Bloodline
- House Withermere
You were weeding the border of the Withermere herb garden, cursing the clay soil, when your wedding ring snagged on a root and pulled you into an older darkness. The root was a fingerbone. The garden had been a burial pit for three wars you had never learned.