As a young girl runs through a forest with no leaves, a crow perches on a branch as he watches her. The girls hair flew behind her like wings while her eyes begged for a rush. The crow then continued to ask himself Why was she so carefree? She watches the world crumble around her and yet she smiles so freely...
Only when the girl disappeared into the trees did the crow stretch his weary wings and let himself dive off the branch.
As the crow flew, he saw the sun just peeking above the horizon as if saying a long goodbye to the world. When only the last traces of light were left, he looked toward the familiar scene below him and began his descent.
As he neared the ground, he felt the rush of wind spin around him as his wings grew till the feathers that covered them caressed his cheeks and as his wings turned to arms. Only when he felt his feet touch the ground did he proceed to open his eyes and take in his surroundings with his new sight. He stretched his new limbs and shook his hair until the remaining black feathers that still remained blew away with the wind. He shivered at the sudden coolness. He never really cared for his human form. It was tall and awkward and was always damaged. His skin would feel every chilling breeze and every branch he passed that was a little too long always left its small scratch on his arms. Still, this body would have to do.
As he took his first step, his body ached at the new sensation. He continued to walk until he saw the familiar tree with the white bark. He walked around until he found the small hole that contained a new set of clothes.
How thoughtful. They remembered I was coming. He thought as he dressed himself in the familiar attire he had previously worn. As soon as he placed the familiar hat upon his head had he started to walk.
As he walked, he began to count.
Sixty...Fifty-nine...Fifty-eight...
When he reached forty, he turned right by the twin trees.
Thirty-eight...Thirty-seven...Thirty-six...
At twenty-seven, he reached the rock with the large scar that ran across its top.
Twenty...Nineteen...Eighteen...Seventeen...
When he reached the small clearing, he was at fifteen. He was then greeted by the familiar smell of smoke and the gray fog which he called home.
Ten...Nine...Eight...
He then saw the white lights move around in the fog, acknowledging his appearance.
Four...Three...Two..
He continued to opened his mouth,
One...
"It's happening...now. Prepare yourselves."
YOU ARE READING
One Last Grave
FantasíaIt has been fourteen years since the war between the two lands, Raia and Imagine, has begun. The kingdom of Imagine crumbles as its greatest leaders and magicians fall at the willpower of Lord Kai, the ruler of Raia. In the midst of this war is Fa...
