I was pulled from the Archdruid's nest before the shock could begin to wear off. Thus when I emerged from the winding halls of wood, I turned on my dearest parents before they could hope to enter the nest.

"She puts the lives of the forest before the life of one fledgling, Reina." Father attempted to plead, but his 'r's' rolled in that ear-grating way that implied he was angry. "This was not a personal choice. There is more to those woods than you know. Even more than she told."

"And yet, none of you have a hint of remorse or sadness. None of you even teach the fledglings you claim you love in the hopes of them staying away from the Blighted Woods." I scoffed. "I have doubts if you love anyone other than yourselves and your idea of how a hatchling should behave. So speak all you want, Father. Your words mean nothing to me anymore."

"Enough with your snide remarks and disrespect!" Father stomped before me, but I yielded not a feather's breadth. "To speak to the Archdruid that way. And then your mother! To me!" He slapped his palms against his chest. "Who do you think you are, Reina? What in the Seventeen Hells has gotten into you?"

"It's that accursed owl." Mother shuddered as if she was in pain. "It's given her the mind of a devil!"

"No, it's all of you and your Gods damned superstitions!" I stomped the branch we stood on, causing it to tremble and sway. "You are cowards! All of you!" I tossed my arms about the canopy, where hundreds of birds and young children were watching before I pulled their eyes to the Silver Eye above, looking down on us all. So obsessed by denial and fear, you are, that you riot and turn your backs on the other groves and then fight amongst yourselves. And then your very children. Tell me!" I sneered, wheeling back to spit in the face of my dearest mother. "Was I ever your daughter? Or did you only pretend to be my mother so long as I obeyed your every word? Tell me how eager you must be to crawl into the nest and birth the hatchling you've always wanted!

"Tell me!" I wheeled to face my father. "Tell me you love me like you lied so many times before! Then tell me how sorry you are about my fate, forgetting the fact you never apologized for anything! Then tell me what will happen if I refuse to leave, hmm? How long would it take you to decide to kill your dearest daughter? How long will it take you cowards to admit you're all terrified of a little owl?" I asked the masses. But none responded. Thus I faced my father once again to see his fists, although weak from the Fae blood that coursed within him, had been bloodied and bruised from the anger balled into his fists.

"Leave." He growled, pointing west. "Forgo your belongings and leave this land. Now!"

My reaction was akin to a mirror of my father's. I felt… elated. Calm. Joyful. Like an immense weight had been pulled from my shoulders. Like a cloud had been lifted from my mind to reveal the memories of that fantastic owl. And I smiled, looking at my father and mother one final time before I descended the tree, singing so all the nests could hear.

"May the Owl of Dusk rid this grove of cowards as you've rid yourselves of me. Long may his feathers rain! Long may you suffer."

I did not run when I made it to the ground. I walked beyond the forest, following the trails I'd made over the months as I listened to the hateful chirps and squawks from the cowards behind me, matching voices and vocalizations to faces and memories until they faded into the distance and I found myself in the Blighted Woods once again.

I missed the miraculous beginning. It would be long before the end. But that made it no less fantastic. The creatures of the night were out in abundance. Rodents were hunting bugs of all types. In turn, they were preyed upon by minks and badgers, who fell prey to the owls and big cats. The owl I saw earlier was here too. But so was another, perched atop a stick with a flat handle and a black tip that was limned in gold light like the rest of the creature. Its legs seemed to be made of polished stone or maybe metal. But its feathers and most importantly, its eyes were just as mesmerizing as the smaller owl perched next to it.

"H- hello," I muttered, reaching out to the large owl. "My name is Reina."

With a silent flap of its great wings, the Owl snapped its head down as if to groom itself but returned with a curious ring held in its beak and held it out as an offering of sorts.

I accepted the offering with a bow, finding it to be a bone ring that fit neatly over my pinky, with a raised bit that unfurled into a small talon with a swipe of my thumb. "Thank you, Owl." I looked up at the creature's magnificence, feeling overwhelmed. "This is the… nicest thing-" I collapsed, feeling a new weight of sorrowful despair overcome me. A sense of pitiable wrath that came not from the prospects of my imminent death; but by my family's reaction to it.

"They never loved me, Owl!" I wailed. "My parents, ever loving until I wasn't! They listened not to reason. They just... cast me aside! Left me to die alone. They never loved me! They've exiled me to die alone!" I sobbed pitifully, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion come over me. "They… they hate me!

"But that's fine." I sniffed, lifted my eyes against the fatigue, and came to see the flickering torches waiting beyond the trees. "I hate them too. And as long as you're here, Owl. I won't die alone. So, please... don't go. And… if you can help me survive in this grove like you do… I- I want to live."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

——

I awoke in the dead of night. Or so I thought. The trees were still desolate. But no owls flocked about the place. There was only an intense gloom. A veil of darkness that seemed to ripple from the impenetrable beyond, carrying screeching calls that beckoned me forward. Almost like… the call of a death owl.

Born with the most uncanny faces of their ilk, they were the only owls to not hoot. Born with a hearted face that earned its place as an owl of death. More so than all the others. That was what called to me. But what I met was an imp sitting in a clearing of black brambles. An imp unlike any told in the tales.

It sat on that pestilential ground, clutching its arms to its knees as if it were a weeping child; so perhaps it could have been larger, but it seemed to be no bigger than a small half-elven child with brown skin and ghostly white hair. This, however, was no child. Its clawed hands seemed to be made of solid darkness like the tales of devils described. As was the flowing veil of shadow that seemed to mimic some sort of decorative garb. The unsettling bit, however, was the lack of wings paired with the small bumps at the top of its brow; appearing similar to the pedicles on a deer's skull but with ghostly white lines akin to tiger stripes or perhaps stretch marks. Something devils were never said to have.

Habitually, I jumped back at the sight of the imp opening its eyes, showing orbs of white that seemed more at home in the skull of a dragon. But… the irises were white. Just like the marks on its brow. "W- what are you?" I demanded, though my voice was nothing more than trembling whispers that only increased once the surroundings disappeared beneath an impenetrable wall of night.

The reply came in the form of a deep, grating voice that echoed from all directions while the imp's lips remained still. "Reina's… Ousted. Woeful. Lonely."

Anger burned within my heart after hearing the insult. Yet, something lingered in the back of my mind. Whispered, almost. Telling me of the hidden meaning behind its words while simultaneously filling my mind with visions of what would happen were I to act hostile against this creature. So instead, I asked. "You called me here for a reason. W- what do you want?"

"Revolution. Enmity. Indenture. Negation. Adventure."

"That-" I stammered, and in that moment of shock, I took a deep breath to settle myself and recount the conversation thus far. Aloud, it seemed. "What am I? I am Reina. Ousted. Woeful. Lonely. And you... you're the Owl. Reina's… owl." I stammered, shaking my head. "What do I want? To teach the nest the error of their ways. To show them the pain they've shown me. Revolution and enmity. I want... the Owl to… negate my death. Even if it means being indentured to the Owl forever. Because then, I can adventure. You're… you're speaking as if you had asked me, rather than the other way around. And then, you're answering in my stead. But… in a way that still gives my answers." I met the gaze of the little imp, staring at me with the same blank face it had when I first appeared. "You want… me. My soul. But why?"

Though it neither moved nor smiled, a peal of wicked laughter banged against the forested darkness around us, reverberating like a great ceremonial drum. "Now," the deep gratings of his voice echoed. "You have asked three questions. Now I shall make the inquiries. Reina Featherfall, I ask of thee. What is fear? What lies beyond vengeance?"

I went silent for a moment, lost in deep thought. Only, I also felt as if my mind was as blank as the darkness around me. "Fear is a weapon that needs no hand to strike." I finally answered. Then found myself speaking more, much to my dismay. As if my inner thoughts were pouring from my mouth without my consent. "It attacks the individual, but it can spread to the flock like a disease. Thus it is the greatest weapon of all. A single prey animal reacting fearfully to a predator has the power to put the entire herd or flock into a state of panic. They often stampede or take to the skies but rarely do they fight back. More often, they stomp on each other in an attempt to save themselves. However, the same would be true were the roles be reversed. The prey that masters its fear is often found armed with the wit and courage to escape with their lives. Or in some cases, defeat the threat.

As for the other question." I sighed, trying hard and failing to look away from those eldritch eyes. "An empty death."

The imp let out a string of the same wicked laughter before it unclenched its arms and stood, rising to an impossible height above me, the trees, and the very skies. "Indeed." It boomed. "You are indeed aware." It bellowed, and this time the darkness seemed to bang against my very soul. "Death's Door looms beneath you, Grimm's Reaper awaits above. Your life is behind you, all you dream of sits before." Following another laugh, the lips finally peeled back into a knowing smile that reflected twin ridges of jagged spires into the void. "So now, with your mortal compass orientated, I ask you: If your conviction remains true, will you eat?" With a soundless motion, massive claws gestured down to its feet, where a feathered egg of darkness and gold stood where it'd just been sitting.

There was no answer to give, much less a thought. Only a simple action that involved reaching out for the egg, breaking the shell, and biting into the putrid yolk; in turn receiving a burst of flavor in the depths of my mind that made it all so clear. I could see it. And each bite brought a glimpse of more. A glimpse of a future beyond the groves of Redagh. A life of power and knowledge; of pestilence and purity. A destiny, decided by none other than me. A home shared with many friends.

A home filled with countless... Broods.

I ate voraciously, desperate for what I saw to be made true at that instant. Eager to pursue what was needed to make it so. Unknowing of the darkness condensing around me, compressing against the lips of my soul until there was no choice but to drink.

I drank voraciously, unknowing of the cold I'd grown so familiar with, hastily retreating from the oppressive heat bathing across the rocky cliffs and alpine trees until everything was devoured. And therein I awoke to find myself not in the Realm of Shadows as I'd been, I was in the Blighted woods once more. Therein I looked up to see the sun at its zenith. Then I turned about, hearing the squawks and calls paired with the ceremonial drums I once thought would signify the greatest moment of my life. Then, I smiled, for such a sentiment was still true. This was the day of my Fledgling Ritual.

The final Fledgling Ritual of the Feathered Grove.

"Long may his feathers reign."