Raven

Beneath a bloodless moon, the field lies silent—save for the faint susurrus of unseen things. At its heart stands Raven, cloaked in sable midnight, her eyes twin voids that swallow any spark of hope. Candles flicker in a circle at her feet, casting long, quivering shadows that writhe like desperate souls. She raises slender arms, the Black Star sigil dangling at her throat, its iron chains clinking in the stillness. No warmth stirs her ashen face; no pity softens her lips. "Ah. A guest..."