The tree loomed in the distance, impossibly massive even from miles away.
Its trunk stretched upward until it disappeared into the storm clouds that perpetually shrouded Floor Twenty-Three's sky.
Branches thick as castle towers spread in every direction like grasping fingers.
Jack stood at the edge of the battlefield where his demon army waited, red eyes fixed on the distant monolith.
Somewhere in that labyrinth of wood and leaves, Stormfang was licking its wounds, trying to recover from the arrow that had punched through its wing.
"Corvin," Jack said quietly, and the Carrion Raven stirred on his shoulder as if he'd always been there.
The bird was deceptively small in its resting state. No larger than a common crow, with black feathers that transitioned to purple at the tips.
Corvin cawed once, a sound tinged with almost a questioning tone.
