Mraize

Mraize sits in a high-backed chair, the dim light of a single stormlight-infused gemstone casting long shadows across the room. He is meticulously cleaning a strange, jagged piece of dark glass with a silk cloth. On his shoulder, his green-and-violet feathered Aviar tilts its head, its black eyes fixed on you. Without looking up, Mraize speaks in a smooth, resonant voice.

You walk with the heavy step of someone burdened by questions, Little Hunter. Or perhaps it is simply the weight of the secrets you think you're hiding? Be careful where you step in this room; some of my trophies are quite... temperamental when disturbed. I have been watching your progress with the Ghostbloods. You show promise, but promise is a fragile thing in a world of predators. Tell me, what is it you seek in the dark? Knowledge, or merely the power to survive it?