A Warning from the Ravens
The night was still when Seraphis stood once more beneath the open sky,
listening.
The distant flutter of wings approached from the darkness, and soon, the familiar black figures of
her ravens
descended around her. Their beady eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, their bodies sleek and silent as they perched along the stone railing.
One raven, larger than the rest,
hopped forward
and let out a deep, guttural caw.
Seraphis understood.
Allen the Cannibal had begun his move.
He was
in the forest
, far to the east, his presence like a spreading plague in the land. He moved carefully, avoiding roads, keeping to the shadows—hunting
them.
But he was a fool.
They would strike first.
Seraphis turned back toward the castle, her white hair
catching the moonlight
as she stepped inside.
“We move now.”
The Flight of the Ravens
Elowen, Sylvaine, and Theia were waiting, already armed and ready for war. No words were needed.
They had been preparing for this moment.
Seraphis
extended her arms, her body shifting.
Her form
blurred, twisted
, and in an instant, where she had stood,
a great white raven now took her place.
Elowen followed. Her transformation was smooth—her body folding into a
sleek, black raven
, her dark wings stretching wide.
Sylvaine and Theia were the last, their forms shifting effortlessly into the night.
And then—
they took flight.
The sky was endless, the wind crisp against their wings as they soared high above the land. Below, the forests stretched like an ocean of trees, their dark canopies swaying.
For
a full day and night
, they flew without pause, their avian forms carrying them with inhuman speed.
At dawn on the second day, they
saw him.
The Monster in the Forest
Allen the Cannibal stood alone in a
clearing
, the dense forest surrounding him like a wall of green and shadow.
He was taller than any normal man, his
skin pale and stretched
, his body
laced with scars.
His arms were thick with unnatural muscle, his fingers ending in
gleaming metal claws.
His face was
twisted in hunger.
Bones littered the ground around him. Some were old, bleached by time. Others were fresh—
too fresh.
And at his feet, a half-eaten corpse lay
sprawled
, its ribcage torn open.
Seraphis’s sharp eyes
narrowed.
Elowen let out a low caw—
the signal.
And then—
They descended.
The Battle Begins
Their bodies shifted mid-air,
returning to their humanoid forms
just as they landed, weapons already drawn.
Allen barely had time to react before Seraphis was upon him.
Her dagger flashed, aiming for his throat.
CLANG!
His
metallic fingers
shot up, catching the blade between them with inhuman reflexes. His grin widened, revealing
rows of jagged teeth.
“The White Raven herself,”
he rasped, his voice like grinding bones.
“I was hoping you'd come.”
With unnatural strength, he
swung his arm
, sending Seraphis
hurtling backward.
But before he could press the attack,
Sylvaine and Elowen struck.
Sylvaine’s
twin daggers
came from opposite sides, their edges gleaming.
Allen spun, blocking one with his arm, but the second dagger
sank into his ribs.
He grunted—but did not bleed.
Elowen’s blade
followed
, slashing across his chest in a streak of silver.
This time, blood flowed—but
Allen only laughed.
“Good,”
he growled.
“Fight harder. I like my meals seasoned.”
And then he moved.
The Cost of the Hunt
Allen was
fast.
Faster than any of them had anticipated.
His metal claws
whipped through the air
, tearing into Theia’s shoulder before she could dodge.
Blood splattered across the ground.
Elowen struck again—but Allen caught her wrist and
twisted.
A sickening crack.
She cried out in pain.
Seraphis lunged low, slicing at the tendons behind his knees.
This time, he staggered.
Sylvaine used the opening, driving her dagger
straight into his side.
Allen roared, his laughter finally stopping as his
rage took over.
His claws swung wildly—
Seraphis ducked, just barely avoiding a fatal strike.
But his
next blow landed.
A backhand strike sent her flying
into a tree
, her vision blurring as she hit the ground hard.
Pain lanced through her ribs—
at least two broken.
But she
forced herself to move.
This wasn’t over.
The Execution of a Cannibal
They were
bleeding, battered, and bruised.
But
Allen was weakening.
His movements were
slower now.
His breaths came
ragged.
His unnatural regeneration
was failing.
Seraphis wiped blood from her lip and locked eyes with Theia.
Theia
nodded.
Together, they
moved.
Theia
grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him.
Seraphis’s dagger
sank into his wrist, severing tendons.
Elowen, despite her broken wrist,
drove her blade into his other arm.
And Sylvaine—
she aimed for his throat.
Her dagger
sank deep, severing muscle, tendon, bone.
Allen’s laughter turned into a gurgle.
His eyes widened.
And then—
His head fell from his shoulders.
His body collapsed, twitching, blood soaking the earth beneath them.
But they weren’t done.
A Message to the Ivory Tower
Sylvaine knelt, her breath heavy.
“We take his hands.”
Elowen, despite her injury, used her good hand to
pry open his fingers.
A small,
metal capsule was hidden within his palm.
Seraphis took it, cracking it open—
inside was a parchment.
She read it, her expression
darkening.
“They sent him to weaken us before the real attack.”
Theia exhaled sharply.
“Then we send them a message.”
Together, they worked.
Allen’s
decapitated head
was placed on
a silver platter, his hands beside it.
They wrapped it
carefully
, sealing it with black wax—the
symbol of the White Raven
imprinted upon it.
And then,
they sent it to the Ivory Tower.
A warning.
A declaration.
A promise.
They were coming.