---=Chapter 25: Some Kind of Crow Wizard---=

My whole body tingled like a limb falling asleep—except everywhere and only for one intense moment. I blinked my eyes rapidly and sat up.

I wasn't in the hallway anymore. Someone had put me in a hospital room with medical equipment that I'd only seen on TV—if I recognized it at all. There was a breathing machine and shock paddles. Not a recovery room, probably, but not surgery either. I was guessing I was in an emergency room or something similar.

They hadn't put me in a bed; I'd been sprawled out on a—hopefully— clean floor. The strong smell of disinfectant assaulted my canine senses. Disappointingly, I was once again in the body of a werewolf. At least I still wore my mask; I didn't see my backpack or bat anywhere.

Maybe they did want the chips. Unsurprisingly, I was back to being mute.

The door handle began to turn, and I jumped to my feet. A man I didn't recognize entered the room as I backed away. It wasn't until then that I remembered the buttons Sori had given me in the Ether. That entire interaction with Sori had been so disconnected and surreal—even compared to my last week—that I could feel my mind dismissing it from my memory like any other dream right after waking. If it weren't for the necklace of silver buttons lying on the ground where I'd been a moment ago, I might have forgotten it completely.

The person walking in had pale skin, harsh cheekbones, and dark hair slicked back. His lips were thin, and his nose sharp. His eyes were dark and flashed when he looked at me. He looked severe but dignified, like a gentleman or a butler. Though that might just be my expansionist colonial heritage showing. Either way, it seemed to be the aesthetic he was going for, considering he walked in wearing a tailed suit while holding his lapels. He held his head high, nose up, back straight. He was basically a cartoon, even compared to my glowing blue monster self.

It was an act of one kind or another, but I suppose it was still to be determined if the show was for himself or for me.

"Hello, Oberon."

Oh good, we're back to that name, I thought, already missing Sori's less serious brand of ridiculous.

Unable to speak, I could only glare at him. I didn't know who he was, but 'crow tamer' was my most believable guess.

Is now the right time to try using some illusion Magic? Sori hadn't seemed too impressed with my one attempt, though.

The butler seemed to know me or, at least, my name—well, my apocalypse name. In either case, I wasn't sure I could fool him with an illusion he knew was false. Then again, according to Sori, emotional glamours were hard to see past even when you knew better. Even if I wanted to try, Sori had stressed that I needed to craft my illusions by empathizing with my target. I'd have to figure out what this guy wanted first.

"Are you feeling better? Imagine our surprise when you suddenly collapsed among our flock." The butler-looking man said. "We had little choice but to bring you somewhere we could keep an eye on you. We assume you were coming to rescue your friends."

There was something incredibly frustrating about being asked questions by someone who ostensibly knew I was voiceless. Every question became rhetorical—or courtesy theater at best. Hands had done the same thing. Then again, Nia had too, when she found me in that first loop. It made me question whether my voicelessness was connected to losing my memories.

My visitor immediately quashed the idea.

"Ah, right, We'd forgotten your limitations." They said after a second. Their image distorted, eyes going from dark to unnaturally black, and the outlines of feathers rippled across their skin. When it passed, a crow flew out of their face, circled once, and landed on their shoulder.

I could only stare in amazement. That's new.

The butler smiled knowingly; slack-jawed surprise must be recognizable even on a canine face.

I was sure it had to be an illusion, and I didn't want to be mocked by Sori for failing to see through another one.

Apart from the crow now perched on their shoulder, they looked utterly mundane. Even the crow looked ordinary, if larger than average. Nothing about it felt like an illusion; I couldn't see through it if it was one. There was also the odd hive-mind behavior of the crows earlier.

What is this guy, some kind of crow-wizard?

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"So, you really have forgotten some things." The butler-looking person said. "Allow this crow to land on your shoulder. It's something you've done before. It will read your intent and speak for you."

The crow on their shoulder didn't wait for so much as a command or gesture to take off in my direction.

As curious as I was, letting a bird land on your shoulder is not natural behavior—not that I'm one to give to shits about "natural." Either way, I couldn't help but flinch as the bird tried to land. Let's just say it wasn't graceful, and I got scolded by tightly gripped talons, and a "CAW!" screeched right into my ear.

"Well, Oberon," they said, "Try it. Greet the day."

"My name isn't Oberon." my new shoulder crow said. It did a surprisingly good job mimicking a human voice—not my voice, but it wasn't as raspy and shouty as I'd expected from the ringing in my ear.

I'd be lying if it didn't spark hope in my heart. This I could use. Forget abstract scenes locked in mysterious crystals or vague illusions designed to trick friends and enemies alike. This was what I needed if I wanted any hope of truly being understood.

I couldn't begin to guess what new bit of impossible nonsense the crow or this butler would do next, but I needed to figure out a way to leave with this Crow. My eyes flicked to the necklace of buttons still lying on the ground; I had my own bit of impossible nonsense. I could only hope it would be enough.

Crowseph waved that away. "Ah, that's right. You prefer Mister Rodriguez."

"I prefer Sam." the crow said for me as I decided to start calling this guy Crowseph in revenge. After all, he clearly knew my real name.

"Mr. Samuel' Oberon' Rodriguez. We don't give one single shit." If Crowseph was a butler, they saw me as an uninvited guest. Then again, they admitted to having Jessica and Alice, so I didn't care how they saw me.

"As you say, Crowseph," I said with more than a hint of mockery. I had to wonder how Huginn on my shoulder was feeling about taunting its master. Then again, if they were a hive mind, maybe Crowseph was being forced to mock himself. I hoped that wasn't the case; otherwise, it wouldn't keep translating for me even if I did escape with it. Either way, it was probably a bad idea to taunt the supernatural being I didn't understand—of course, that's also why it felt necessary.

"'Crowseph.' Quite. There's no telling whether you've retained some memories or if your mind is just that consistently simple. Now then, should we get to the matter at hand? Or perhaps you'd prefer more small talk. We've traded names and insults; should we discuss the weather next? The vortex is down, the skies are overcast, and the day is hazy. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, why don't we discuss why you're here."

"Here? I have no idea. I was just taking a nap on the floor." The bird answered for me.

"A nap you refused to wake from. Almost, we thought you one of the Soulless Unmoving, your sword turned back you. Yet we saw your aura inexplicably snuffed out before so many of our eyes, with no sign of any Shadow. You can credit that peculiarity for your freedom, such as it is. Until recently, we believed your lost mantle and memory an obvious ruse. Your assault on our territory made us question that assumption. Yet, while we can find no sign of your Shadow, your soul has returned as if it were never gone. So tell us, Oberon, Sam, Beast, why are you really here? Is it truly for those women? Or do you think to catch us overconfident and off guard?"

"Do I really need a better reason than saving people from a murder of murderous crows?" I asked them.

"Your jokes are never funny, Oberon. And your interference is unwelcome. You've been careless enough to lose memories, so we'll take a moment to educate you for the sake of us all. It is really quite simple. You stay out of our way, and we don't spend every loop making sure you regret your birth."

Not wanting to draw attention to the buttons, I tried not to keep myself from eyeing them. All the same, I kept them in sight from the corner of my eye. I wasn't totally sure how they would work in practice. Sori had told me to study them, but hopefully, they would be pretty intuitive.

He said they were shields. Would they expel anything too close, such as the crow on my shoulder? What would it do to objects in its range? If, for example, this so-called force field cut through the floor, I could end up falling into the force field myself. Which raised another question, what happened to things that did touch the force field. Really there were a lot of unknowns, but I was already facing the embodiment of unknowns, so what was a few more. That said, it wasn't time for desperate moves quite yet, not least of which was because the buttons were on the floor between me and Crowseph.

"Why do I feel like you're pretending to be more magnanimous than you actually are?" I asked. "After all, how many of us are there that even know you exist. I don't think you can afford to make me an enemy any more than I can of you. It seems like we're both essentially unkillable. You want me to believe I can't stop you—can't protect those around me. But we both know I wouldn't be as easy to take down as two regular humans. And even if you manage it, I'll just be back next loop. Killing or pissing me off too much carries as much risk for you as it would for me."

"We have enough crows in our flock to take even you down, Oberon," Crowseph replied.

"Maybe, I guess I can't say for sure. But I've died; I've died painfully and terrified. I won't say I can't be intimidated anymore, but threats alone won't do it. I think, if it were easiest to get what you wanted by killing me repeatedly, you'd already be doing that rather than talking. You had all that time while I was unconscious, after all."

"True. It would take resources to keep you down. Still, I'm confident we could keep you down while building our flock and territory. You would just be an impediment—one that would eventually be squashed by our weight."

"Before you put that to the test, why don't you tell me exactly what you're asking of me. I can already tell you that attacking my allies was a line too far."

"Once again, we're here to educate, not grovel. The women you have come for, if indeed you have come for both women, they have broken an accord and will be corrected."

"Crow-rected" I interrupted, causing the crow speaking for me to puff up its feathers and flap its wings in agitation. Crowseph just glared at me a moment before continuing.

"It can be a difficult process. It happens in stages and across several loops. We tell you this so you'll understand that you're too late even now. If you try to save them, you'll only prolong their suffering."

"Explain," I said, the feigned humor of a moment before gone from my crow's voice.

"The first step, as it was for me—this body, we mean—is to traumatize the prey." A predatory gleam flashed in Crowseph's eye. "In this world, when pain is too great to face, when fear overcomes reason, the mind births a monster— a demon, your friends call it. These monsters have a core, a crystal seed ready to be cracked open and shared among a few.

"That is the second step. When the flock claims the spawned demons, we connect to their trauma and are ready for the final step. We return and devour the prey again, echoing their trauma back on them and cracking their minds open like any other crystal. Thereafter, the target becomes part of us. We remember much about the man that this body was and the tormented end he faced; we don't much care for him. We have his mind and body. We're connected with the rest of the flock through him and his pain. Through their pain, we're connected to him.

"We're a trinity of Crow, Person, and Trauma, a beautiful union. For your friends, the first step is already done. They will be haunted in coming loops—their demons given life by the haze around us. We may allow that haunt to happen for a few cycles before intervening. It can make assimilation easier—for the crows, that is.

"Their only real hope is your Shadow."

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