In the time before the dust of creation had settled, the world was trapped in a chaotic cycle of birth, creation, death, and destruction. Among these primal forces stood the Thalcaris Forest, a land where constant battles painted the soil in blood, and predators tore into each other in an unending cycle of violence and survival. Rivers of red fed the colossal, monstrous trees, washing away the dust like a cleansing tide. Broken and scarred by countless battles, the forest itself was as deadly as the creatures that roamed within it.
It was an era where no one believed humanity, of all creatures, could endure. Yet, against all odds, they did. Fragile and unarmed, these beings stood in defiance of monstrous bears towering 25 feet tall, their seven glowing eyes tracking every movement as they stalked through the forest on six unyielding legs. They did not falter under the suffocating gaze of lynxes, whose massive, unblinking eyes mirrored pools of endless hunger. Nor did they shrink from twin-tailed foxes, whose eyeless faces betrayed an uncanny ability to hear the faintest breath from leagues away, leaving no sound unpunished.
Yet they did not just survive; they flourished, achieving feats that defied all expectation. Humanity dared to perform an act more perilous than the relentless campaigns of the warriors of the Seven Hells, more audacious than the vigilant stewardship of the forest’s ancient guardians, and more shattering than the unyielding strength of the Stone Warriors. Despite being the smallest and weakest of all the races of Ætherion, humanity survived through a single, ingenious trick that would elevate them to unparalleled greatness.
They tamed the beasts of Eryndor.
By forging bonds with these fearsome creatures, humanity shaped their culture and survival around a symbiotic relationship. In the land of Lethion, the clans of the Wolf, the Boar, the Ox, and the Ram rose to prominence, each aligned with one of these mighty creatures.
The Boar was a fearsome mystery, its ten eyes stretching across its back, ever vigilant. Its face, a skull-like visage of bone, bristled with vicious rows of tusks and teeth. A creature of unrelenting force, it plowed through anything in its path, scattering trees like leaves in a storm.
The Wolf was a hunter born of shadows and precision. With four glowing eyes and jaws strong enough to crush bone, it was a predator unmatched. Wolves hunted with cunning, running prey into ambushes and using their pack’s tactical prowess to bring down even the mightiest foes.
The Ox was a living mountain, its frame massive enough to shake the ground with each step. Its large, bulging eyes spun constantly, granting it near-perfect awareness. Four mighty horns could shift seamlessly from rigid spears to fluid, whip-like appendages, and its spiked tail was a natural fortress, warding off any attacker foolish enough to approach from behind.
The Ram was the protector of the meek sheep, a creature of unmatched ferocity. Its blackened horns guarded its head like an unbreakable shield, while its razor-sharp front claws struck with lethal precision. With its sturdy hind legs, it could launch itself into powerful bursts of speed, using its agility and force to eliminate threats with brutal efficiency.
These beasts, terrifying and wild, were tamed by the hands of humanity. A partnership that shaped the destiny of the world.
Yet, of all these challenges mankind had overcome, the raven remained unclaimed.
Towering at ten feet, its feathers shimmered with an eerie purple sheen under sunlight, otherwise cloaked in impenetrable black. Three piercing eyes adorned its head, one centered like an all-seeing sentinel. Its razor-sharp beak could slice through steel, vibrating with a low hum that hinted at its destructive potential. Despite its fearsome appearance, the raven exuded a quiet, inscrutable dignity, its untouchable nature a testament to its unmatched intelligence.
It remained free until one day an old, grizzled warrior, heavy with drink and burdened by years, stumbled upon one of these magnificent beasts caught in a crude trap. The raven hissed at him, its three piercing eyes gleaming with raw, unbridled killing intent, a primal warning to stay away. But the man did not flinch. He was seasoned, battle-worn, and unshakable—tried and true. Over forty years old, an age far beyond what most survived in this unforgiving world.
The old man staggered closer to the raven, its black feathers shimmering faintly in the moonlight. It snapped at him, its beak stopping inches from his weathered face. Unmoved, the man chuckled. “Ain't ‘eva seen a beastie quite like yeh in ‘ts trap ‘afore,” he said, his voice rough, his words slurred with drink. The raven’s three piercing eyes fixed on him, each a dagger of disdain. “Constantly yelling out how cleaver ye are.”
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“Manschild, you mock me from a comfortable distance, step closer and repeat your words.” the raven hissed.
The man shook his head, his grin unwavering. “Got meself a preposial, I do.” He gestured toward the thick spider-thread net tangled around the bird’s powerful wings. “I cut ya loose, set y’a free. But… I want somethin’ in return, somethin’ fer me.”
The raven’s feathers ruffled, and its voice dipped into a rhythmic growl. “I am no fool to bargain in chains. I shall not be your slave”
The man burst into a hoarse laugh, shaking his head. “Slave? Nah, I ‘ont want that,” he said, waving off the bird’s suspicion like smoke in the air. He raised a gnarled finger toward the sky, his gaze distant. “What I want… is up there. I want yeh to take me into that endless blue, just the once.”
The raven’s head twisted unnaturally, its three eyes narrowing. “What trickery do you weave?” it crooned, each word laced with suspicion.
The man smirked, his cracked lips curling with mischief. “Trickery?” he rasped. “Trickery is lettin’ you keep yer wings while I stay grounded. Yeh got the gift o’ flight, and I got nothin’ but these two boots ‘ere.” He stomped a mud-caked foot for emphasis, then tipped his head toward the raven. “I just wanna feel it—jus’ the once.”
The raven stared at him, its three piercing eyes narrowing with suspicion. The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense. The man shrugged, his weathered hands gesturing lazily.
“Looky ‘ere,” he drawled, his grin crooked, “you trust me not to harm yeh when I set ya loose, and I’ll trust yeh not to drop me after. It’s a win-win, eh?”
The raven remained motionless, its gaze unblinking. The man chuckled, a low, gravelly sound, and leaned on his knee. “‘Course,” he added, his tone light, “‘r I could leave yeh ‘ere for the spider. She’s a patient lass, strong web and all. Don’t much fight, but she sure knows how to wait.” He nodded, as if agreeing with himself, then mused, “Lovely lass, that one. A’nt found a way to best her yet.”
The raven let out a sharp, derisive caw, a sound that echoed with frustration and resignation. “Fine,” it hissed, its voice low and melodic, like wind rustling through dead leaves. “Cut me loose, and I shall guide you once—One flight, one chance, then nevermore.”
The man gave a toothy grin and tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Fair, I s’pose,” he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. “Now, watch that beak, eh? Don’t fancy losin’ a hand to yer snappin’.”
He stepped closer, pulling a dagger from his belt. The blade gleamed faintly, its jagged edge carved from a dragon’s fang. The raven’s eyes followed his every movement, sharp and calculating, as the man cut him free.
The man nodded as the raven stretched its massive wings, shaking off the last remnants of the web. It leapt into the air, circling once before landing again, its piercing eyes fixed on the expectant man below. The raven ground its beak together, the sound echoing ominously through the clearing, and repeated “One flight, then nevermore.”
“Sounds good to me,” the man replied with a grin, his voice gruff yet oddly gentle. The raven lowered itself, allowing the man to climb onto its back. Its feathers were cool and impossibly smooth, like polished steel.
“Hold tight,” the raven warned, though it seemed indifferent to whether the man obeyed. With a powerful beat of its wings, it lifted into the sky, the air roaring around them as they ascended. Higher and higher they rose, the forest below shrinking into a patchwork of greens and shadows. The raven soared gracefully, circling the land, giving the man a rare glimpse of the world from above—a world vast and untamed, painted in shades he’d never imagined.
When at last the raven descended, landing with a swift, graceful motion, the man slid off its back. He stumbled slightly as he regained his footing, his hands trembling, but his eyes gleamed with something unspoken. He nodded at the raven, tears spilling freely down his weathered cheeks.
“I feel like I’ve seen her again,” the man said, his voice breaking.
The raven tilted its head, curiosity sparking in its gleaming eyes. “What do you mean, old one?” it asked, there was no other soul in the sky, save them.
A sad smile folded in his eye, “My wife,” the man replied, his gaze drifting upward to the endless sky. “She passed some time ago. The heavens claimed her, and now she’s beyond my reach. But tonight…” His voice faltered, then steadied. “Tonight, you let me be with her again. In the air. In the sky. For just a moment, it felt like she was there.”
The raven studied him silently, then asked, “And why do you believe you will never join her?”
The man laughed, a hollow sound. “Because I’m no good,” he said. “I cheated, I lied, I stole. I killed men and took their lives for sport. I raped, I pillaged. I reveled in this world, danced on its pleasures, and laughed at its rules. My wife…” He paused, swallowing hard. “She was a prize. A trophy I won, and she was never happy under my thumb. My children are grown now, with babes of their own. There’s no place left for me in their world. I’ve lived too long, and now all that’s left is waiting for death to take me where I belong.”
The raven’s eyes narrowed. But the man continued closing its eye. “I’ve seen all I needed to. I’m ready for the end. So take me, raven. Let me be your meal. It’s more mercy than I deserve.”
The raven regarded him for a long moment, its wings tucked tightly against its body. “You are a broken thing, old man. You are no good man, but you know your soul. In this world, many like you perish young, and yet you’ve lived to see your end. That is rare.”
And for a moment longer the pair stared at each other, and the legend of this meeting is still up for debate but the clan of the raven was born on this date.