Blackfeather Woods to hear the softly spoken magic spell

---

and among them stalked the Raven. as the birds grew maniacal and swarmed on the pale girl, he sat motionless a stone's throw away. his gaze was on the girl, the one the wood accepted and the crows sang praise. it was merely another shift in the long, tumultuous history of the wood. he would bear this with no animosity nor good will toward these new denizens of the wood, but an acceptance of their presence here. 

above all, his loyalty was to no thing save his birds and the wood itself. as long as it served the interests of the latter, he would stand with those who made it home. in this way his loyalty was fickle and yet too unwavering. a raven split from the rest and handed heavily on his nape, fangs digging past even the callouses that existed there. with that, abraxas stood and was gone from the coronation.