The life of Matilda Crane bore little resemblance to the dreams she once had.

LIke an old bone left in the back of a fridge, she wasted away what precious youth she had left. The lack of daylight leached the color from her face. A ghoulish mask imposed atop a formerly familiar face. Her family couldn’t recognize her. Old friends would pass her on the street without notice during rare outings.

Matilda’s loft resembled a hovel— perched on top of a slanted townhouse in a crowded nook near Craven Cottage. Matilda only cared for the view— and the nests on the roof. If she ever lifted the dark cowl she wore, you’d notice her angry, yellow slotted irises. Matilda Crane— heir of an old name and an ancient magic, was an ornithomancer. Unlike her surname, she dealt in raptors. And may the lost gods have mercy upon you if she counted you as prey.

The protective pillars at Stonehenge were toppled by university hooligans on a binge dare. Their university, Islington, repaired the damage with discretion. Unfortunately, the protective barrier that had held since the time of Boudicca broke. It release magics back into the world— waiting to be woken in the blood of forgotten descendants. Matilda Crane was one such human.

While not common, certain families such as the Crane’s rose to prominence due influence gained by wielding arcane forces. Most were discrete in use and public knowledge, but others were inclined to wanton destruction. The enclave was quick to silence those actions— positing the actions as mundane buffoonery, not mystical malice.

Matilda’s family worked for the enclave as covert intelligence. It’s easy to hide from humans— harder to hide from winged beasts. Matilda, however, didn’t follow her family into the trade. Instead, she disappeared from high society in pursuit of the deep knowledge she believed her magics possessed. With the release of these magics from Stonehenge, she believed darker forces had been awoken— and she would be the one to find them.