Issue 3

A hundred years have passed since Lady Zabrina was torn from mortal light. Once princess, wife, and mother, she was struck down beneath a blood moon, poisoned and cursed to rise again. On that first night she ate of her kin, and by her command the dead obeyed. From hall to village to castle they rose, bound to her will, shadows in her wake. Woldstone Castle, proud seat of the Ravenshands, withered into ruin, its stones steeped in dread. Zabrina, dragged into a swamp by unseen sorcery, was bound in torment, her body held between life and death, opposing forces of magic and curse, animating and decaying her. Yet time has tempered her wounds, her hunger, her rage. On the Vernal Equinox, as witches stir their craft, the mire answers. The waters shift. The hand emerges. Zabrina is ready to walk again.