Candlelit Shadows

Chapter 3

“One more story, okay? Then you have to sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, dear.

      “Right, where were we—? Ah yes. Remember the battle I told you about? Well, to make level out the playing field, each creature could choose a power, just one power, from their Creator, Solis. Regardless of the advantages one had gained earlier in the cycle of evolution, it would be this choice that’ll eventually determine the outcome of this little death game.

      “Amongst the top Twelve, the last and weakest was the crow. He was a vain and selfish creature, who had to rely on stealing others’ leftovers for a living. Even the humans looked down upon him, and chased him away when he tried to steal in on their fabulous feasts. They hurled pots and pans at him, but those didn’t hurt as much as their insults did. Though the words were alien to his tongue, he knew very well the intentions behind them.

      “It was shortly after one such pandemonium he was summoned to the Creator’s palace to choose his power, and in a fit of rage he demanded to be given the power of speech to retort at those insolent humans. Only on the battlefield itself, submerged in blood and death, did he realize it would now be his sole method of survival in the duel against beasts that couldn’t care less about words.

      “But we have to give him credit, for he was cunning and resourceful, having had to rely on his wits to survive. Finally, he found a way to sweet-talk the strongest of his assailants into sparing him, or even bend a few lesser creatures to his will. With this came the attention he craved—perhaps more than what was good for him. For when the bear realized his potential, the former began to ‘notice’ him more, even offering empty promises of an alliance. The stronger animal’s attention and praise was flattering to the crow, so much so his loose beak leaked out all the secrets to his trade. And finally, when the bear had fully mastered the art of twisted words and had no use for him any longer, the foolish bird was slain, though not before narrowly securing his position as the twelfth survivor.”

*

Her new friend, Avian, was so much more than just that, Cera soon came to realize. He was her assigned mentor.

      They chatted lightly as he led her to destinations unknown, though she was not as worried as she should have been. Maybe it was the prospect of a new day, or merely the brightness that came with his cheerful smile, but walking down the same corridors, she was not quite as daunted as she was yesterday. Furthermore, his words had reminded her of the tales her mother used to tell her. Depressing as they were on a toddler, she was glad to realize that this, at least, had stayed with her as the rest of her life seemed to spiral further from her control. So she mentioned it to him, and he smiled thoughtfully.

      “Oh, yes. Though perhaps in our time these weren’t known as lightly as bedtime stories. In my family, the story of the Eagle was passed down through the generations as the origins of our very earliest ancestor.” He shrugged, as she incredulously raised an eyebrow. “I know, I know. But believe them or not, I’m afraid some of the traits of each family seemed to have survived the years. Wait till you meet our Crow—I meant Corey. Corvus. Whatever.”

      Avian winked. “You might find him somewhat different from his alleged ancestors.”

      Somehow, Cera just could not shake off the nagging feeling he was being just a little sarcastic.

      As they navigated through the winding tunnels once more, she felt her initial claustrophobia lessening. Thoroughly refreshed and wide awake now, she noticed subtle marks here and there at the turns, suitably indicating directions. Her mentor approved of her observations, and taught her a few of the basic symbols, leading to the more frequently habited places.