Crow's Blessings → Sylus

Prologue

Isn't it funny how a group of crows are referred to as "a murder"?

The sinister term itself rooted itself resulted from a crow's tendency to scavenge on the battlefield, picking on the flesh of corpses. That, and several folktales to add, gave crows a notorious reputation.

It's sad, honestly. Crows are considered to be as intelligent as a 7 year old human. A murder of crows have the capability of abstract reasoning and complex problem solving. Wouldn't it only be fair to treat them with the same consciousness you'd present to another human being?

I learnt all of that during my childhood days. I forgot who had taught me, but I've always had respect towards crows, or any animals in that matter. I did it as an act of precaution — one would never want nature to be their enemy.

This respect led me to form a habit of my own: Feeding the crows. While crows gradually became harder to find in Linkon for the past ten years, they're still fairly common by the border of Linkon and several No Hunt Zone areas. I've specifically made friends with a murder of crows in the No Hunt Zone just west of Linkon.

I'll admit, winning a crow's trust can be tough. At first, they'd flat out refuse your offerings. But, if you're persistent enough, they might just recognize your face in time. In a certain period of time, they'd try to approach you, analyzing if you could possibly be a threat. There's no guarantee that you'll win a crow's trust, but with persistence, you might just.

After a long day, spending the hours doing paperwork at the Hunter's Association HQ, I found myself wandering to the west side of Linkon City. The sky was tinted in hues of orange as dusk was approaching. It didn't make me falter though. There's one last thing I had to do before ending the day with a good night's rest.

Stepping foot into the No Hunt Zone area, I noticed the usual tree stump sitting just a few metres away from the fence. There, atop of the stump, was a shiny, silver object.

"Strange. They'd usually bring more than just one," I casually said as I approached the stump. Reaching a hand out, I picked on the small object, inspecting it on my palm. It appeared to be a pendant of some sort. The pendant seemed like it had something inside, but you couldn't pry it with your hands.

Saving my curiosity for another day, I decided to turn on my heels to head back home, calculating that I might just miss the last bus home if I'd spent another minute trying to figure out the mysteries of the pendant.

Maybe tomorrow the crows will give me some answers.

—

"You have what's mine."

That ominous voice rung like a broken bell. I couldn't tell where I am — hell, my vision is worse than just blurred. It's as if I had my eyes closed and all I could see was a flurry of color from a single light source.

All I could see was crimson red.

"Give it back."

"What?"

"I said give it back."

"I don't understand."

"May this curse befall upon you until you return what's rightfully mine."

—

I woke up with a sudden jolt. Sweat was dripping from the side of my forehead, my breath short and rapid from the shock. That dream flashed across my memory, consuming my thoughts in confusion.

To say I was scared would be an understatement — I was terrified. I quickly tried to recall what I've been 'taking' for the past few days, making sure I've paid or asked every single items I've had in my possession from their rightful owners.

"Everything checks out," I said aloud, making sure that I was no longer trapped in that damned dream.

Taking my phone from the bedside table, I squinted as the brightness of the screen blinded my vision. 5 AM. It was too early to start the day.

But, I didn't have any means to fall asleep and be faced with the same dream again. So instead, I hopped out of bed, stretched and headed for the kitchen. Scouring through the fridge, I took a small carton of banana milk and a leftover cake from yesterday's celebration party.

Sitting on the sofa, I sipped on the banana milk, scrolling through my phone, specifically searching for "meanings of dreams". I'm not one to easily believe in superstitions, but if it meant explaining the creepy dream I just had, I might as well start believing in them.

There was no article that matched the description of my dreams though. So, my effort to find an answer bore no fruit.

Sighing, I finished the tart cake, savoring the sweet taste until it lasted. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts, but when I did, I gathered a small paper bag, filling it with mixed berries before heading out.

5.42 AM, I found myself wandering around the No Hunt Zone. The sky reflected a tinge of pink amidst the dark purple, a rare sight to behold.

The single tree stump was visibly untouched. So, I put the small paper bag, which I loosely tie, atop of the lonely stump — my daily offering to the crows.