15
Lincoln and I step inside a massive drawing room. Vaulted wooden ceilings arch above us. A threadbare red carpet lines the floor. The rest of the space is filled with a variety of high-back chairs, benches, and small tables, all of which are carved into the likenesses of ravens. One wall is filled with a fireplace that’s framed by even more ravens, only this time the likenesses are stacked up, totem-style. A long bench sits before the fireplace; it’s where the only other figure in the room is seated.
Obsidian Kildare.
He’s tall and lean, with skin so pale it almost seems to glow. I’d guess his age at somewhere around thirty. Obsidian wears black body armor, which seems an odd choice for sitting before a fireplace, but who am I to judge? His long dark hair is pulled back with a scrap
