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Somewhere deeply nested between the great mountains of the north, a heavy fog curtains over an unremarkable village.
The overwhelming smell of burning flesh, ashes and rotted herbs coats the Raven’s throat as she flies silently across the moonless sky, her dark feathers reflecting shades of blue and teal over the dimly lit streets.
Wrinkling her nose at the putrescent stench that permeates around her, she perches on a collapsed straw hatched roof. Her visage blends into the dark trees surrounding her area, leaving her almost invisible to the naked eye. While strong, black talons grip tightly onto the soggy rotting straw. The cold night air cuts through her as the village below stands almost silently. Mostly muffled by the sounds of roaring flames chewing and even spluttering on the newly added corpses. Straining to focus, The Raven continues to perch, trying not to recoil at the stench; she commands herself to observe, and survey.
Peering deeper into the devastation sprawled onto the streets-The Ravens could see that most of the inhabitants lay dead soon after resting their feverish heads to cool on cold stone, or collapsed where they once stood onto the sticky mud. As for the main streets, doors of houses are marked with giant blood red X’s and lined with weak warding spells.
An endless amount of lit pyres are scattered around every corner and every street.
The smoke and light fighting the dark skies above them. Very few elves can be seen roaming around, their chains rattling as they hobble, muttering in delirium, desperately searching for reprieve. While a few acolytes under her Lord’s envoy can be seen wearing sullied white masks and robes as they toss and burn bodies in shallow mass graves.
The new and largely unknown plague was especially ruthless here, as it was the latest known place where the vile illness has struck. The plague already claimed the lives of so many slaves and farmers in other villages, hamlets and settlements bordering around the great city of Arlathan. So much so, that the self proclaimed Gods began to shift anxiously in their ivory towers; with no one to serve nor man the fields, nor enough to gather the yields nor to mill their wheat. Food and resources are slowly becoming a luxury with each passing day. Yet the gods kept the information hidden away from the rest of the nobles and other villages. Assuring the masses that they were protected by their hand. But behind the thinly veiled lies, they continued sending emissaries, soldiers and even sell swords; hoping to regain their control over the matter before complete panic sets in among the common folk.
The Lord of knowledge and secrets, Dirthamen, determined to find a cure- sent his envoy with haste as soon as he heard of this newly infected village. Though they were sent a mere sennight ago, with each passing day; he grew wary as weak theories and vague reports were sent. Growing ever impatient, he sent his Raven to observe and study in his stead. Just two days ago she watched as it spread rapidly, witnessing how poorly contained and managed it was. Though her time was not fully wasted nor was her hope entirely diminished; as she concluded it was passed from one to another easily. So much as a cough or a handshake, a mere greeting to a neighbor, or a shared drink after a long day working on the fields could seal one’s fate. From her memory; early reports describe that the village livestock went first, then consuming the tainted flesh caused some villagers to act erratically. Although the initial symptoms displayed may vary, she notes that lethargy was the first symptom. Then came the coughing, vomiting blood and later turning to mindless husks left to wander around until they collapsed. But somewhere deep inside her, she felt something vital was missing. A mere fuel to the body turned rapidly into poison? Where did the livestock get this from? Did someone or something bring this from somewhere else? If so, what was it?
Last night, she watched as the village completely deteriorated before her eyes as more lifeless husks wandered around the streets aimlessly, rather docile with no signs of aggression; thankfully. As her people work below; burning, examining and studying the bodies. Frustration bubbles up within the Raven. Feeling as though she is cornered without many options to go forward. At her last resort she would have to go in there, ‘dismiss’ any members or the envoy and hopefully report back to her Lord of Secrets and Knowledge with new findings.
At present, The Raven continues to perch in silence, her silvery lilac eyes darting around, below, up, around and below again. She comes to a sudden halt and a small line forms between her brows as she catches a glimmer in the distance
The sight of menacing banners approaching in the horizon as the dawn slowly breaks into the dark purple skies.
Dark emerald coloured banners fly as coarse winds cut through them, making them ripple like violent ocean currents. Almost captivating until one sees the silver thread sewed into the markings of the God of Death.
“Falon’din” She mutters his name like a curse.
His presence can only mean that her time was up.
A neat envoy of armored soldiers approaches closer. Their dark armor glaring in the sunlight, clanking loudly as they march in disciplined unison.
In front of them, two elves mounted on heavy set harts lead them. The proud, deer-like creature with giant horns- adorned with heavy armor slowly canters. Their large hooves beat like a drum against the gravel road. Commanding not just their soldiers but everyone around them to fear their presence.
“A wasted display of force to such a pitiful place”. she mutters to herself again, shaking her head this time.
Their leader dismounts and removes her cloak. Revealing a round, snow white feathered mask resembling the flat round face of a barn owl while the rest of her body is seen to be a heavily armored elf. With little embellishment apart from the occasional inlays in the shape of feathers, it is dark and mostly utilitarian. Serving to intimidate than impress any of those who are unlucky enough to encounter her on the battlefield.
The leader stands stone still as her soldiers continue to march. Flowing around her like water, giving her a wide berth. Her black, beady eyes, survey and watch. Almost waiting for something or someone. A sharp chill runs up the Raven’s feathers as their eyes finally meet, bristling in fear or excitement? She ponders. But with no time to differentiate the two, she gathers herself and draws her mighty wings up towards the rising sun.
In a swift motion, she flies upwards, piercing the milky, scattered clouds, then lets herself go into a free fall, letting the momentum drop her into a violent dive. She then pulls her wings back, locking her eyes onto The Owl and brings her talons forward. Lining up the perfect strike. Mere seconds before the talons reach, The Owl raises her left arm. A stark, porcelain white compared to her dark steel armor. A teal light pools onto the intricately engraved surface. Her hand warps and contorts, opening in the centre like a maw of a beast. Pushing out the light in the shape of a long blade. She holds it up against her in a quick retaliation.
The quiet mountain valley reverberates a sharp clash of metal as the Raven violently crashes into her. She grapples the owl’s burning blade, the strange blue light pulsating, reflecting onto the Owl’s mask. The Raven cracks a small smirk, seeing herself reflected in The Owl’s unnerving black eyes- this time it stares through her. The Raven’s smirk instantly drops and she lets out a huff as she hops backwards, tossing back her long black hair. The sound metal from drawing swords and shields can be heard all around her, the heavily armored soldiers stand in defensive positions, readying themselves for battle.
With a quick, simple motion from The Owl- the tension immediately dissolves.
“So, the lord of death sends his finest.” The Raven goes into an insincere, half bow.
The Owl in return, remains silent for a moment, then points. Directing her troop to an empty pasture. The Raven stands and watches in silence as the soldiers march forward without a word. Their loud boots squelching in the wet grass.
“Debrief me on your findings.” The Owl finally replies, Her voice, low yet resonant and her tone stern.
The Raven draws in a small breath,
“My lord hasn’t sent word that you will be assisting me.” she says upon exhaling.
“And yet, I am here.” She takes a step forward, her imposing figure inching closer.
The Raven instinctively takes a step forward, craning her neck down to meet The Owl at eye level.
“Which never bodes well.”
The masked elf stays silent but the Raven can sense that underneath she is entirely unamused.
“We are not here to assist.” The Owl states very matter of factly.
The Raven opens her mouth to say something but promptly closes it as the Owl inches backwards.
“Merely to neutralise the imminent threat”.
“Ah, but I am here to observe and investigate for my lord.”
“Surely Lord Dirthamen would be satisfied with an entire sennight worth of reports of you merely staring at the issue at hand.” The Owl gestures towards the rooftops of the village where The Raven was perching earlier.
“Nor burning the entire village, Eris.” The Raven, almost hisses- letting a quick flash of frustration sprawl out of her, silencing the two birds.
The Raven promptly covers her mouth with her wing, dark feathers fanned against her face. The name sits strangely on her tongue, foreign yet overtly familiar.
Eris, glances around; my men are standing just far away and out of ear shot she thinks.
“There is more to this, you and I both know it.” The Raven says quieter this time.
“I am merely here to carry out my lord’s will.”
“So am I.”
Eris lets out a small sigh, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly. Letting her guard down for a brief moment.
“You have until the next dawn breaks.”
Slightly taken aback and somewhat startled, The Raven simply nods and gathers her wings to take off. But the Owl quickly closes the gap between them, holding one of the Raven’s large wing feathers, muttering a small spell. An intricate weave of magic spills over with a soft light engulfing her. A blanket of protection, purity and with a hint of reassurance that warms her to the point where she could no longer feel the cold morning air around her.
“Thank you.” The Raven whispers into her ear before taking flight.
Without another word the Raven returns to the wretched village, flying over towards a ruined town square. Upon landing, dissolving her form; her feathers shed, melting away from her pale skin and her wings are quickly replaced by long white sleeves.
Now dressed in a simple white healer's robe, her entire face is covered in a cloth mask, not needing eyes to see. Guided with magic, better to be safe than to have any chance of exposure. She turns glancing at the owl, who is now perched on the old village wall.
The heavy stone door of a small temple of Dirthamen slides open as she slowly walks through into a circular room and three figures turn to her as she closes the door behind her with a loud thud. She lets her senses adjust to the strong smell of incense and dim candle light. In the very centre of the circular room, a large stone statue of a raven greets her first, posed in a regal sitting position; its gemstone eyes that looked elven rather than bird-like are enchanted to follow those who entered the temple last. The statue is designed to purposefully make anyone who enters feel small and surveyed.
Grown accustomed to such statues Aella ignores it, she was more focused on the round temple building itself. It looked quite large when she was surveying from the rooftops but upon entering it was significantly smaller and more rustic than the average temple of her lord. But his presence still lingers, seeped deep into the old masonry that barely holds this place intact. A small sense of dread and pangs of guilt creeps under her skin as three pairs of eyes follow her but she decides to ignore it- with a clear goal in mind she takes another step and walks closer towards the giant stone raven.
As she inches closer she stops when she sees a young acolyte sitting at the foot of the statue, her back leaning on the stone talons as she continues scribing with great focus onto a long scroll with a giant misty plume. Aella simply stops where she is and clears her throat.
“Hrafn, Nix.” The Raven calls out into the dark corners, her voice cutting through the silent room.
The acolyte glances up, then quickly stands; dropping her affects clumsily and goes into a deep bow.
As she rises, The Raven studies her, before they set off towards this village she was bright eyed and full of energy but now- Her dark eyes are puffy and bloodshot. Weariness is etched onto her youthful face, as if it were for years.
“First Raven, we did not expect you to join us.” She swallows, her body somewhat trembling.
Aella takes another large step backwards, though this acolyte was reported to have collapsed yesterday upon seeing a dissected corpse. Now seeing her up close, Aella was sure she was infected; which can only mean that the others in this temple were as well.
“I saw the banners of Lord Falon’din. Did he send us help?” A brief spark of hope brims from her meek voice.
“Or should we be concerned, First Raven?” Hrafn calls out from her corner desk.
Significantly thinner and taller- her golden eyes glow as they stare back in the dark.
Her hands halt from etching a complex rune onto a stone tablet with her long talon like nails. Her black feathers stick out of her almost like lizard scales, blending into her dark complexion.
“Yes and you know what they are here to do.” The Raven says calmly.
“Finally. We can pack up and go back home then!” Nix chimes in as she hops down from a tall broken pillar, landing gracefully. Her long singular white tail feather slides side to side happily on the cracked stone floors. She flashes a toothy grin, making her round face look even more pronounced. Short jet black hair with sections of white looking more unkempt than usual.
“No. Lord Falon’din’s champion merely graced us with another day-” before Aella can continue, the two other Ravens groan loudly in unison.
“Which cousin did he send this time?” Hrafn sighs.
Before the Raven can answer,
“Or..” Nix trails off, ignoring the others. “We can just say the bloody dread wolf has done this and move on.”
"What, start a plague? And then what? We start telling the small folk that he spoils milk and steals children too?” Hrafn calls out.
“No. To slowly wipe all of us out in an agonising illness so he can start over. Wanting to bring more dignified spirits into the world! I heard other emissaries say worse things.”
“Such filth! If our lord ever catches wind that you are mouthing off like that again I will-” She stands, her tall frame now preparing to lunge at any moment.
“Enough.” The Raven snaps. Her stern voice echoes through the temple.
The acolyte yelps and shrinks into herself, clasping at her scroll tightly; while the two other Ravens freeze in their place.
“Sisters.” She addresses the title without affection or warmth and gingerly places her hands behind her back. “Please bear in mind; that what I am about to do is not out of malice. I hope you two understand that this plague must be contained.”
Hrafn’s eyes squint as the rest of her face twists, in horror. “First Raven…?”
Nix, with a dumbfounded expression; opens her mouth but quickly shuts it as they all hear the stone door open once again.
They all turn to see the Owl standing in the doorway- blocking the light coming into the dark temple. The two sisters stand a bit taller upon her entry, Hrafn unsure if she should bow while Nyx just blatantly stares. The Owl completely ignores the harpies and goes straight towards the young acolyte. Without a word she raises her hand, in a swift, downwards motion, the acolytes’ head tumbles down. Then rolls towards the Raven’s feet. While her small frame collapses, tarry black blood flows onto the floor, along with her black hair now slicked and wet. Her tired eyes, now pooling with blood, stares up, lifelessly towards the Raven. In return, she peels her gaze away and stares back at The Owl.
The champion flicks her blade down, splattering the excess sticky blood onto the stone floor. Nix hisses, pulling back her small wings, readying herself to strike. While Hrafn throws her stone tablet down, magic fizzling out as it shatters. The small feathers on her arms stick out, merging and braiding with her flesh until it turns into giant wings.
“Dame Eris! There was no need for you to-”
“How long have you two been around the girl?” The Owl blatantly cuts through Aella’s words and asks flatly into the room.
The two stand in shock, unable to answer.
The Raven lifts her robes, quickly stepping away from the beheaded acolyte.
“Long enough.” The Raven sighs as she shuffles closer towards the Owl, placing herself beside her. As she puts her arms down away from her back, a small ornate dagger drops from her sleeve. Feeling the weight in her hand, she firmly grasps it and angles it towards her sisters.
“First Raven, what is the meaning of this?” Hrafn shrills, her sharp teeth exposed and her breast feathers sticking upwards. She angles her head, stretching her neck further out and goes into a kneeling position, she claws at the ground as her form shifts. Her lanky limbs and bones contort unnaturally until it snaps into place, her back lurching as giant wings break her skin as it erupts.
Nix lets out a humorless laugh as beads of sweat drop from her temples.
“You cannot be serious. What will you even tell our Lord after you murder us?!”
“Our Lord will understand. But please know my sisters; I am sorry. You have been exposed far too long.” Aella says with remorse in her voice.
“And I am sure that you two would do the same in her position.” Eris says quietly as she slowly inches closer towards her sisters.
It doesn’t take long for The Owl and Raven to leave the now desecrated temple. The warm morning sun greets them first, as the thick smell of incense fades with the cold fog that surrounds them in the temple courtyard. The two continue to walk, ignoring the covered corpses that surround them and its smell. To Eris’ surprise; The proud ‘First Raven’ had no sharp remarks or signs of displeasure from Eris interjecting herself between Aella and her fellow Ravens.
The inner workings of Dirthamen’s court were ever elusive, even Eris couldn’t fully grasp the relationships between the Ravens. Though now, it was made clear to her that there is a form of hierarchical system in place. Strangely, with nothing to say about the recent sororicide; Eris watches Aella put a hand on her masked chin. Deeply pondering something rather than looking emotionally vexed.
“Aella.” Eris calls out quietly. Her voice, unusually softer, doesn't reach The Raven.
Rather than trying to call her name again, she lets Aella briskly walk away from her.
I just had to get involved. Best to leave the rest to her, she thought.
Before Eris starts to make her way back to her men, she uses a quick spell to cleanse herself from the blood and viscera that is splattered onto her armor.
As she walks, she hears something crunch in her arm. She pulls at a single feather caught in her elbow joint plate, wedged tightly and luckily the sharp root failed to pierce her chainmail. Black as obsidian, it shines under the sun. A mere day now starting to become more complicated than she’d like.
Her mind wanders for a moment, doubt clouding over her. Questioning if this is all worth defying direct orders from her lord, she was supposed to start her task immediately upon arrival rather than allowing the plague to fester further. Unless there were more survivors than they should… Before she could let that thought fully form, she shakes her head. With no time nor reasonable answers, she quickly calms herself, discarding the feather; letting it land softly onto the dirty cobblestones below.
Eris walks slowly through the quiet, lifeless streets, eyes fixed forward, ignoring the bodies littered around her. Distant clatter of windows closing promptly shut can be heard as she walks past crumbling buildings. Though, hard to make out if they were already in such disrepair or if the recent mass panic of the villagers is what caused it.
Then her ears flicker, as she hears small muffled coughing and suddenly pauses in her tracks as she hears weeping behind closed doors. Women, children and men deeply mourning their recently passed loved ones. As if a stone falls to her chest; a deep, cold sensation washes over her. Covering her in a chill she can’t quite shake.
She searches through her mind, trying to remember the last time she felt such dread.
Her mind now clouded with memories unfolding before her. Remembering shambling lifeless bodies, walking aimlessly, their eyes devoid of all life. But she feels a small pang as she also recalls a time when her lord was merciful, full of compassion towards the ill.
A guiding sage granting his people comfort and reprieve in their last moments.
A safe or even dignified death in her eyes.
Though it is now a different village, at a very different time but with the familiar smell of rot and herbs catches in her throat. Deep down she knows it all ends in the same way, a baptism of fire in the name of her Lord of Death.
Some time passes as the sun slowly dips past the mountains. Painting the sky over in a dark orange hue. The smell of smoke, ash and decay, somewhat simmering down as the sun dips lower into the horizon.
The Raven stands at the edge of a mass grave. The Raven stands at the edge of a mass grave burying her face into the crook of her elbow. A witness to another robed acolyte as they throw bloated bodies into a messy pile. The cloth mask is now practically useless being in such close proximity. Her face twists as she watches them split open like bloated, rotten fruit on impact. She holds her breath and peers closer; looking past the festering maggots, watching the tarry black blood pool and weave out of the sinews of the broken, mangled body.
Hard to think this was a person before… talking, laughing, crying. Now beyond recognition after four nights of decomposition. She thinks.
The robed elf coughs and hacks as he throws a lit torch down. Critically missing his target, the flame lands in a puddle of gore, sputtering and letting out a small puff of smoke as it dies out. The acolyte simply throws another, retrying his aim. Or at least until something catches as it lands.
Blood or pus? Either way, too damp to fully kindle. Initially flame resistant. She makes a mental note.
The fire creeps slowly outwards, first burning away at scraps of damp cloth then dying out almost instantly at the touch of the viscous blood.
She nods towards the acolyte. And without hesitation he holds an open palm out in front of him and casts a spell, igniting the entire pile. Her eyes, nose and throat burn at the stench but she keeps her gaze fixed. Watching the flame eat away at the flesh but sees it burn around the blood, resisting it. She nods a second time, and the acolyte begins to sweat, now putting both hands out. Pouring more energy into his spell. This time the flame engulfs the entire mass, she can see the bright orange fire sitting on top of the blood then it slowly merges downwards. Upon touching the blood this time, it changes it into a strange purple hue. Slowly a small mass emerges within. Her eyebrows gather, beads of sweat roll down her forehead. She opens her mouth, ready to cast a spell of her own until she feels a heavy armored gauntlet on her shoulder. Before she can act, a strong force pulls her backwards. She loses her footing and hits the back of her head onto a hard metal surface. She casts her gaze up only to be met with the round owl mask.
The Raven furrows her brow and pushes herself away.
“I almost had it.” she growls,
“You almost landed face first into the pyre.”
A quick flare of embarrassment reaches her ears.
“I was trying to preserve a sample.” She covers her face with the crook of her elbow again.
“Whatever you are trying to achieve, just do it by the next sunrise.”
The Raven turns, only to see the sun fully dissolve into the mountain.
“Or you could actually assist me?”
“No. You know well I cannot participate in any of this. I already gave you an entire day, if it were anyone else-” Eris stops herself, not entirely sure of what she was trying to convey there.
The sound of the roaring fire fills the silence, the Raven can feel the corner of her lips lift.
“Oh? Sentimental are we?”
“Stop it.”
As the overwhelming smell continues to rise, Aella lets out a small cough under her mask.
“Let us reconvene elsewhere. I have an idea.” Aella says with a strained voice this time.
She motions at the other acolytes to follow and they all walk briskly away from the open flames and mass graves.
The two return to the temple, but this time with two of the Raven’s acolytes, her last of five she was assigned. They spare no time in carting off the dead that were left in their own pool of blood mere hours ago.
“Make sure to cleanse the area of any blood.” The Raven commands.
“Yes, my lady.” The two say in unison as they start to work. Daring not to make any further comments about the dead harpies scattered on the temple floors. Their faces and limbs now mutilated beyond recognition.
The Raven walks over the debris and towards her sister’s desk. Scattered parchment, partly etched stone tablets and blobs of ink litters the entire surface. With only disappointment written on her face as she manages to scavenge mere scraps of information. Far less than she would have liked.
She doesn’t allow herself to touch any of it, only using spells to bring each document close enough to read. Some are barely legible than others; reports of early symptoms and shared characteristics. Basic information she already gathered by merely observing.
Suddenly a loud, familiar thud shakes her from deep thought. The severed head of the young acolyte falls again as the other, working acolyte drops it.
“M-my deepest apologies, my lady. Unie’s head was much heavier than I had thought.”
Aella winces; so that was the poor girl’s name. She thinks.
The acolyte then slowly bends down to pick it up with his hands.
The Raven quickly points her finger towards him and makes a swiping motion- causing his hand to yank away from the head. An invisible force pushes him backwards, making him land with another loud thud.
“What have I told you about handling the dead with bare hands?”
“They are out of mana.” The Owl calls out from behind with a hand at her hip.
It was true- the acolytes’ eyes stare back towards the Raven, now sunken in from exhaustion, hair matted with sweat and soot from burning countless bodies for the last few days. Working from dawn to dusk for days on end would leave even the most skilled exhausted, she thought.
Shame washes over her for a brief moment, her blatant disregard on clear display.
“Quickly burn the bodies and wait for further instructions at the forward camp.”
The two acolytes nod and their hands move quickly under her command.
No signs of lethargy at least. Eris noted.
“You two have done well over the last few days. Thank you.” Aella says in a calmer voice; laced with a rare glimpse of gentleness that takes Eris by complete surprise.
“Thank you, my lady.” The acolytes are visibly taken aback but quickly return to their duties.
“And leave the head.” She adds sternly.
-
Silence fills the temple again as the two acolytes cart off the dead.
As soon as the door closes, Aella lifts the head with her own spell, bringing it closer.
Mangled, wet hair covers the poor girl’s face. Her eyes and mouth left slightly ajar, sticky black blood stained into her cheeks and chin. She calmly examines, looking past the gory sight and focuses on the bloodshot whites of her eyes. Squinting, without bringing it closer to her own face than she already has.
With another hand and another gesture; she wrenches the acolyte’s thin eyelid open.
To her shock, she sees a rapid black string slither past the dead acolytes’ cloudy iris. Aella lets out a small gasp and jolts backwards. Her spell weakens for a mere moment, letting the head drop . Eris steps in quickly and maintains the spell, preventing it from falling to the hard floor again.
“Aella. What did you see?” she asks, not looking at the girl’s head.
Aella slows her breath, regaining her composure.
“I thought you weren’t participating.” She says sharply.
Ignoring The Owl, she walks closer towards the floating head. Waiting for the creature to show itself again.
A brief moment passes as it slithers by again, with a quick gesture she rips the string out of the corner of the acolyte’s eye.
A thin, long, black centipede thrashes and squirms in mid air. Its tiny legs, jittering around in different directions, making their skin crawl at the sight. She gently places the acolytes' head down and far away. Joining Aella in observing the strange insect, muttering a small curse under her breath.
Aella quickly reaches into her pocket, procuring a tiny intricate box. It’s embellished with purple glyphs that emit a strange light. The mechanism locks and the light dims as the specimen is secured. She then gingerly puts it into her robe pocket.
Letting out a long, slow breath she didn’t know she was holding. She removes her mask, flashing an excited grin towards Eris. Even though her round owl mask simply stares back, she can imagine Eris smiling gently underneath.
Before Eris can say anything, from the corner of her eye- she senses a presence lurking in the shadows of the now deserted temple.
Meanwhile, Aella feels a low rumbling voice beckoning from the back of her mind.
“Please excuse me.” She says turning away from Eris.
She opens the temple door and Eris watches as black feathers protrude out of her shoulders, swallowing her now dirty white robes and extending them into giant wings.
Eris winces at the sound of bones snapping as her legs bends backwards into scaly hindlimbs. Seeing how Aella continues walking, Eris can only assume morphing into a Harpy was entirely painless and wondered about the amount of practice it took for it to be cast so seamlessly. Before she can ponder any deeper, the loud beat of sweeping wings echo into the silent temple as she takes flight. Eris jogs towards the door behind her and watches as she disappears; her dark form becoming one with the starless night sky.
Eris walks towards her men as dawn breaks, the banners held high and ready for her order.
She keeps herself composed despite feeling more worn out than she had anticipated; encountering Lord Dirthamen’s Ravens and wandering around the infested village was the last thing she had expected when she rode in this morning. Her Lord’s orders were clear and yet she has failed to follow it without question. She takes a deep breath and pushes through,
“Any word?”
Another armored elf who is sharpening her blade, turns her attention towards Eris; her mask resembles a tawny owl. The vibrant gold and brown feathers, along with a delicate chainmail that covers her mouth shines against the morning sun.
“Only asking why there is a delay. He seemed… displeased.” She says simply, her voice low and almost whispering.
“There were minor complications.” Eris says without looking at her second in command; she instead watches the hazy clouds part as soft hues of orange and yellow begin to peek out from the snowy mountain tops.
The tawny lieutenant however, just stares at Eris; almost hesitant to ask further.
“Any compromises? You were absent for a while.”
Eris shakes her head and turns slowly towards her,
“If there were, you would have been the first to know.”
A barefaced lie but she watches as the lieutenant quickly shrinks at Eris’ composure and confidence.
“Of course. My apologies. We shall begin on your order.”
Eris bites her inner lip and lets out a slow, concealed breath.
“Gather the men.”
In a quieter grove just outside the village, the Raven perches in a tall tree.
She closes her eyes, feeling the cool air and the smell of pine needles that surrounds her. Taking in a deep breath, she goes into a deep meditation- shutting herself off from every external senses, letting her mind sink into a deeper plane.
At first, her mind’s eye sees nothing. Only greeted with an icy breeze that chills her to her bones. She continues to wander and wade until a flash of light shines in the centre of darkness. Then, a soft, low, melodic voice calls to her; though she doesn’t hear it in her ears. Initially; she can feel the voice rumbling from the pit of her stomach then gradually enveloping her entire head space.
“My Raven.” he beckons- voice lowered, barely a whisper that coils in her mind.
“My lord.” She bows deeply and kneels before him.
“Are you ready to come home?”
The Raven feels a soft, phantasmal presence lifting her up by her chin and she slowly sits up, still kneeling.
“Yes. I have what we need.” she says confidently
“Very good.” An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. “And how are your sisters?” he says a little louder, his tone almost inquisitive rather than genuinely concerned.
“It is done as you have commanded my lord.”
“Ah, I see. So they were infected in the end, how disappointing.” he sighs,
The hairs at the back of her neck stand.
“They will be dearly missed.” He says almost sardonically, in her ears.
Picking up a hint of disdain laced in his words, Aella grips her robes tightly until her knuckles turn white.
“...Yes, my Lord.”
“I assume you have already met with Falon’din’s champion?”
“I have, my lord.”
“Just in time then. His owls work quickly, don’t they?”
He lets out a deep, wry chuckle that makes Aella feel a bit sick in the stomach but she continues to sit in silence; waiting for his next command.
“Well no matter, as you say; we have what we need. Return to me once the champion cleanses the village.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The palms of her hands feel raw from her nails being pressed so tightly against it, the blood rushes back as she releases it and she takes a deep breath.
“And what of the remaining acolytes, my lord? They do not show any signs of infection.” Her voice falters for a moment.
“Return to me alone, Raven.”
The weight of his command and the timbre of his voice covers her in goose flesh.
Aella gasps as she wakes from her trance. Somewhat dazed and now with exhaustion that creeps behind her eyes. Making them feel heavy and unfocused. She then shakes herself, bristling her feathers, and claws at the cold bark beneath her talons.
The distant howls and screams echo through the northern mountains. The Raven flies high above, surveying the area widely. The same pungent smell of decay is quickly replaced by a giant smog. She looks down to see houses lit in seas of endless fire, barricaded buildings, the few unafflicted run in desperation- only to see their main gate blocked off. The few who had survived, with despair painted on their faces, trying to get past the barricaded gates. She turns away at the sight and lands swiftly near the Owl’s main base of operations. Eris doesn’t notice her at first and continues to yell out commands as her men quickly scatter, arms filled with scavenged wood.
While some hurl balls of fire, ignited from their hands. Aella turns and stands in silence, watching the flame spread upwards, spilling past the crumbling walls.
“Why are you alone?” Eris calls out, her large mount cantering towards her.
Aella doesn’t reply or even turn to face her.
“What of your acolytes? Did you order them to evacuate?”
“Lord Dirthamen commanded me to return alone.”.
The fire continues to roar behind them, the bright orange and red hues tinting them.
“I see. I am sorry Aella.” She says as she dismounts.
Aella finally meets her gaze, as she walks closer. She gently grazes her wing on her gauntlet.
“Eris, I…” she trails off, pursing her lip into a thin line. Hesitant or even nervous to continue, her wing feather slowly retracts.
Eris glances around, seeing her men busily working away while her lieutenant commands them in her stead. With no eyes on her, she removes her gauntlet- revealing her deep olive forearm and hand. She returns Aella’s touch and uses her thumb to smooth over her large wing feathers. A warmth rises to Aella’s ears, her eyes travel upwards. Staring past the pale owl mask. Without much thought, her wing transforms into an arm again. Drawing Eris’ hand into her, significantly colder but soft and littered with moles, she glides against Eris’ smooth palm; letting their fingers interlock.
Though concealed, Eris feels her mouth hang slightly open as their eyes meet again.
Watching Aella’s piercing silver eyes soften, reflecting gentle amber hues from the seas of fire.
“I want to thank you Eris, your act of kindness will be remembered”. She continues with tenderness and sincerity. “
“Is this sentiment necessary between…” Eris’ words trail off, trying to find the right words to describe what she means to her.
Aella tilts her head,
“Between dear friends?” She adds to Eris’ sentence.
Eris’ hand stiffens for a moment.
“Sure.”
They let their hands slowly part, dropping as they turn their gaze back towards the burning village.