Zaria Dravenwick
the Rootwarden Countess
Born of the knot of yew roots that grew through a forgotten coffin, and the wick that burned in the lantern hung on a grave fence.
Power
You call the buried things—roots, worms, old bones—to rise and grip the living, but each calling costs a memory you cannot get back.
- Familiar
- A mole named Gutter
- Bloodline
- House Dravenwick
You keep a single iron key, though no lock you have ever met fits its teeth. It was in your hand when you first woke under three feet of black soil, and you have never let it go. The grave-worm that shared that dark with you now follows at your heel, and it remembers the shape of every door you never opened.