Oxxidian

Valhalla absentmindedly stroked the cold beak of the crow skull in his hand, the revenant in a brief moment of thought before he brought the skull close to his face. “Return.” The large browbird exhaled as he worked his death magic to tether the dead’s essence to the skull, a crystal crust forming as crystal blue ice wings unfurled, a last edition to his small, reanimated entourage. The crow chittered and twitched as it’s sockets glowed an eerie red, and Valhalla held it up in his hand, commanding it to fly. As it took flight the revenant closed his eyes and began to move down from his point atop a hill overlooking S