Dear Shadow Tribe,
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| Corvus the Wanderer |
The Raven Who Walks
Corvus is simply Latin for raven or crow. It felt inevitable the moment I unboxed him. The long beak, the dark robes, the staff crowned with a bird’s skull… the name arrived fully formed. Ravens have always been the birds that linger at the edges of death and knowledge, watching, remembering, and refusing to look away. Calling him anything softer would have been a lie.
The Wanderer
Unlike Erasmus, who seems content to haunt the books and offer the occasional cryptic health tip in the small hours, Corvus was never a city doctor. He walked the plague roads between remote villages when the official physicians stayed behind locked gates. He gathered what the earth still offered under the moonlight, spoke to the dying when no one else would, and kept walking long after the last outbreak faded from the records. The bird-skull staff is not ornament. It is the first crow that followed him and never left. The lantern never quite goes out because something inside it still needs to see.
Now he has claimed a corner of my library. His pouches occasionally shift as if something inside them is still drying, or wiggling. On certain nights the lantern burns lower when the wind rises, and once the staff was found pointing toward the door after a long stretch of stormy weather.
Is he only resin and paint? Maybe. But the house feels a little more protected since he arrived. And in House Shadowlight, that is rarely a complaint.
