Nyx Raven; A Witch's Creature

Nyx Raven; A Witch's Creature (part 1)

Where did I leave off?

Oh yeah, the rabbit. That's the worst part of this life. Having to feed on innocent creatures to fulfill a life I don't even want to live.

I padded over to a clear, ripple free pond just to my right. The moon hung over the pond in a strange way, so that the pond was entirely covered by the moon's reflection and looked as if the water was some kind of faerie dust. Not in a beautiful way but a horrible way, as if that faerie had been banished to the most gruesome of deaths.

I knew that looking into the pond would show me the scars I had received tonight, along with those that had lace my skin for as long as I can remember, which is, believe me, a very, very long time. I knew I would see the long, bluish black hair that hung to my waist and was entirely straight, tearfully dead. I would see silver light illuminating from my skin. I would see my permanently black lined eyes. I would see my tear stained cheeks and my full, purple tinted lips. I would see my torn, long black dress that I had stolen from some renaissance fair last fall. But most of all, I would see my true trademarks of this body. The frightfully silver eyes. They were like candle light in the woods, except the candle wasn't warm and inviting, but cold and hostile.

I should probably tell you the year so you don't think I'm some crazed lunatic who thinks I'm six hundred years old. The year is Two thousand four hundred forty-nine. Today is the exact anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe's death. October 7th, 2449.

I have a bit of a Poe obsession. I think he, though entirely demented, had the same terrible thoughts that run through my mind. When I finally turned away from the pond, I looked up into the sky and decided It would be a good time to find a place to settle down.

I lifted my chin to the sky and let myself slip into my Transformation. I barely felt myself shrinking, my bones hollowing themselves out, the sting of the black feathers stabbing out through my skin. I had numbed myself to the pain over the past six hundred years.

Oh, did I forget to mention that I can turn into a raven at will?

Well, not entirely at will. It has to be night, and my eyes have to be glowing silver at the time, instead of their usual shimmery gray.

When the transformation was complete, I flew off in search of a black, leafless tree known as Dominus Nex or Dominus Mors. That is, Master of Death.