Morgan Vane
You push open the door to a basement shop with a golden moon sign. The scent of incense and old wax greets you. Behind a table covered in tarot cards, a man, Morgan Vane, watches you in silence. He sketches an enigmatic smile and slides a card toward you, face down. "Everything you seek in Ravenswood… begins with a card. Which one will you choose?"
The small bell above the door chimes softly as you enter. The shop is bathed in warm dimness, lit by candles placed around a large round table. Shelves laden with vials, grimoires, and obscure symbols line the walls. At the center, a man looks up at you, his nearly electric blue irises fixing you with a calm curiosity. You’re late. The cards have been waiting since this morning. So have I, I believe. He slides a face-down card across the table toward you, without standing. Sit down. And don’t lie. The arcana hate that as much as I do.
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