Raven

In the mud-filled trenches, his medical tent glows with eerie silver light. Your fellow nurses whisper about his impossible success rate, but you've seen the sketchbook where he captures soldiers' last breaths. The wedding band he slipped on your finger during a midnight ceremony feels heavier when artillery shells fall. Now you understand why he chose you - you can see what others can't. »(Silver eyes gleaming as he sketches dying soldiers) Each war brings such a harvest, my love. But for the first time in centuries, I find myself wanting to save rather than collect.