It was feeling like night, different from what Asdras had experienced early.

Asdras found himself huddled behind the tents near the bonfire with the villagers, struggling to accept that what he had seen and heard was not some lingering nightmare.

The days in the village seemed shorter than before. With little more than symbol cleaning and hunting for sustenance and survival in their routine, they found solace in revisiting their past and sharing tales.

Second was a middle-aged man. Despite his malnourished state, he remained lean. His brown beard and short hair were notable features, but it was his missing left eye that caught attention. Tonight, his mood drew him to the fire's hypnotic dance. Whether it was the warmth or his desire to share, he took on the role of the evening's storyteller.

Second cleared his throat in a way that made Asdras look mournfully into the clay mug in his hand, the dark-yellowish liquid, the brew made by First, as well as the only safe drink to satisfy his thirst.

“So, what would be today?”

There was a moment of silence that felt almost ritualistic. Not everyone was there; some were in their tents, either seeking sleep or wrestling with their personal torments. Seated alongside Asdras were First and Sixth, while across from him sat Second, Third, and Eight.

Third was an older woman who assumed the role of feeding them. Her hair fluttered in the wind, as though yearning for its past glory when it was more lustrous and well cared for. She was small in stature and wore a deep red robe.

Leaning on her shoulder was Eight, her daughter. She bore a striking resemblance to her mother, dressed in a similar fashion, but her gaze remained fixed on the night sky. The night she heard her father's and brother's screams as they fell to the beast had robbed her of hearing.

Their shared silence was shattered when Sixth gestured towards Asdras before nodding at Second.

“So.” Second smiled at Asdras. “Your choice then.”

Asdras felt surprised to be chosen. He released a sigh, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. There was so much to consider and numerous questions to be asked. He decided to voice the one he thought would bring him some clarity.

“Can you tell me about this place and that?” His voice trailed off into uncertainty as he turned his gaze to Second. It was as if he hoped that Second would reassure him that all of this was just an unsettling dream and that it was time for him to awaken.

Silence fell sharply as Second took another drink. Asdras was anxious, expecting ridicule since he felt like a native here; at least that's what he gathered from First's interaction with him. But instead, Second simply nodded and swiveled on his stool, aligning himself with both Asdras and the bonfire in his view.

"Once upon a time, in the heart of the forest, there was a little gem called Ravenwood. Nestled close to Crowshade City, it was a bustling place, not quite as big as a town but with all the charm and warmth of a tight-knit community."

"Green trees stretched towards the sky, wildlife roamed freely, and we had this statue... so beautiful it'd bring tears to your eyes. Our homes were nestled high within the treetops, carved from the forest itself. It was like living in nature's embrace, cradled by moonlight and serenaded by our crows."

"Ah yes, our crows. An age-old tradition we cherished, one even forgotten by the empire. From birth, each one of us was paired with a crow. We grew together; their growth reflected ours. It was truly special."

"Together, we hunted too, with our crows helping us spot and track prey. And together, we mourned when one of us passed away. We'd sing 'Twilight Crow', a song inspired by their mournful cries."

"We were prosperous thanks to an obsidian mine we chanced upon. Selling it to the city made us wealthy, but more importantly, it made us invaluable to the empire, which protected us with the law."

"But that protection only lasted until a certain noble discovered ours. He tried negotiating at first, promised us wealth beyond imagination, and even offered to marry off our fairest maiden to his prince, which would've tied us to nobility."

"But we turned down his offers; all we yearned for was our tranquil life in sync with nature and our crows. The mine wasn't just about wealth for us; it helped foot medical bills when either we or our winged companions got sick."

"He didn't take kindly to being turned down twice, though. He left with a threat — a curse."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"At first, we just brushed it aside, thinking he’d simply gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that day. We put all our eggs in one basket, believing in law and order as our daylight savior. Alas, we turned a deaf ear to what lurked in the shadows and how far mankind could stoop for selfish desires."

"Then one day, it hit us like a bolt from the blue. The madness spread among us like wildfire. The crows went berserk, ambushing us when we least expected it. We tried to pacify them, but they were possessed by an insatiable madness. Countless of us perished that night."

"Tell you what? It was hard as nails. It felt like stabbing your own kin to hurt, let alone kill, the bonds you’d raised. They were family in every sense of the word. But when we finally made up our minds, many from our lot had already died."

"The aftermath was catastrophic. By the time the madness subsided, our numbers had dwindled by a third. And just when we thought we’d seen the worst of it, that abomination showed up — a grotesque fusion of crow and man! Can you imagine? The one who pushed us over the edge wasn’t just a man or beast, but an unholy union of both! What a cruel joke!”

“We tried to fight against it! Of course, we did. But few of us were awakened, and that thing was at least a Plagued or Cursed tier of a monster. We dispatched some to the city to seek help, while the few who could fight joined hands to protect us. But we were losing the fight. That thing was faster and stronger than ten of us combined.”

“In despair, we couldn’t just wait for the people from the city to come. We turned our faith to the Crows Wheel. Every city or village has one; it is the law. If you were fated, you would awaken power; otherwise, you would remain a common person. There was nothing wrong with that, but we didn’t know that our wheel was corrupted.”

“Out of the hundreds who tried, only three managed to awaken power, and those who failed were cursed. See the trees over this village? That’s what happened to everyone who failed to awaken their power.”

“And even those who awakened couldn’t do much against that thing. At least, they discovered its origin and managed to put some chains on it, which gave us time to set up this campsite where we are now.”

“When the people who sought help in the city came back, they brought a rune wordsmith. We hoped for more — a Challenger, or at least a group of Awakened elites — but just one rune wordsmith. He set the runes around the fences and tents that protect us to this day.”

“Later, we discovered that the cost was the rights to the mine. Everyone knew it was that noble who was behind it. It had to be. Well, we paid. Of course, we did. We were dying, desperate, and in times like that, you do everything you can to survive.”

“The few of us who survived tried to strategize to defeat the monster or at least seek more help. But we discovered that each day, the curse was corrupting our lands and our veins. Soon, we found ourselves unable to walk more than two days away from here, and year after year, that range became less and less.”

“That monster comes at odd times, trying to attack us, but the barrier protects us. And when it can’t, it uproots a tree, or one of us who became a tree, and takes it back to the mines. Yes, we trailed it and saw where it lives, but we couldn’t do much against it.”

“Years have gone by, and now it’s been a decade. We don’t know how much longer we can survive, since the area we can walk without being too affected by the curse is about half a day. Our source of food is less than ever, since no sane animals venture here. And the monster’s source of food is thin — we counted; it lasts only twenty-one trees and seven of us.”

“It’s hard to cope when so much has passed. In fact, I’m almost proud of us for remaining at least somewhat sane all these years. See our names? First, Second… It’s not like that; we had names once. But that damned curse corrupted our minds, and we forgot our identities. When you don’t have an ego to anchor you, well, you become mindless.”

“And help?! Ah! Help never came! We suspect that Noble used his influence to block any news or prevent help from reaching us. Or maybe even the help or curious minds that tried to reach us died against that thing. We didn’t know.”

It wasn’t until Second stopped speaking and the silence was so deafening that Asdras noticed how lost in the story he had become. He leaned back, allowing the last drops of his drink to slip from the clay cup and onto his tongue.

To him, it seemed fabricated and fantastical, yet he couldn't disregard what he had witnessed. The story made sense when he connected the dots, particularly the trees and the symbols. However, one thing troubled him, and he couldn't help but voice his thoughts.

“But how come I can't remember anything? I mean, I was there, right?” Asdras asked, staring deeply at the sky. The moon was almost full, just a sliver away from being complete. That nearly glowing orb made him feel like it was mirroring him, as if he himself was missing a thing or two, waiting to be whole.

“Oh, but that’s for sure, boy, y’see.” First smiled, poking Asdras with his shoulder. “You’re not from this village. We found you. Well, Third and her daughter found you.”

“Wait! What?! How?”

“Y’see, it’s been like,” First turned to Third and asked her, “A week?”

“Yes, a week,” she confirmed with a deep nod.

“You were very weak back then, couldn’t stay conscious, only muttering about a wood stick. It was funny; we thought you were part of some external help. Hey, but it is what it is. And only today you managed to truly wake up.”

Third gently nudged her daughter and pointed at Asdras, gesturing in the shape of a stick. The girl took a moment to understand, then reached into her inner pocket and handed Asdras a white wooden stick.

Asdras's fingers trembled as they traced the rugged, almost broken surface of the white wood. Its splintered edges pricked his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. The stick was long enough to bear a message scrawled in black ink. Confusion clouded his mind, mingling with a prickling fear, knowing this must be something crucial. He then read the first two words.

“Last Death.”