Asdras felt a comical yet sour twist in his stomach as he reflected on the bizarre events of the day. And just when he thought his mind couldn't take any more, he now found himself arguing with a talking crow. Even more ludicrously, he was losing the word battle.

“What are you?”

"Madness! Kid, are you blind as a bat?"

“I know you’re a bird, dammit, but how can you talk?”

“With my mouth, kid! I’m a crow, not just some birdbrain!”

“A crow is a bird.”

“A crow has gravitas beyond mere feathers and flight!”

“If you’re a crow, then come here and fight!”

"If you're brave enough, jump here and catch me, fool!"

‘To heck with this! Worse, that nasty taste of the water is still in my mouth.’

Asdras stomped the ground with such force that it opened tears and cracks, the earth splintering beneath his feet. He rubbed his head and hair vigorously, as if trying to scrub away the day's confusion and mounting frustration.

“You can’t be my power,” he protested, shaking his head. “A talking crow? That’s hell.”

"For every ounce of wisdom, there's a pound of foolishness, I say!"

“This has to be some kind of trick,” he muttered. “How can a crow be my power? It’s ridiculous.”

The crow let out a sharp caw, a cry of frustration that seemed to mirror Asdras's own turmoil. Its beady eyes flicked from side to side before settling back on Asdras.

“Ridiculous, my damned feathers! Do you know how many times I’ve seen this scene? How many times I’ve tried? How many times I’ve faced hell? Ridiculous, I say! Like it or not, kiddo, I’m stuck with you now. Best listen if you want to survive.”

“What…”

Asdras never in his wildest dreams thought he would one day hear an outburst from a crow, especially one that mocked him. Yet, there it was, a strange creature that seemed inexplicably connected to him. His palm, which had never ceased burning since he drank the water, throbbed in tandem with his racing thoughts.

He found himself sitting at an awkward angle, his body twisted to face the crow, while his mind struggled to process everything that had happened.

“Good lad,” the crow paused, struggling to keep its eyes open. “Madness! These bursts of madness are unbearable! Now listen up; you’ve got about a week to live or die. I want to live. If you die… well, at least it’ll be true death this time.”

Asdras nearly fell against the wheel when he heard what the crow told him. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief, and he steadied himself, gripping the cold, dark stones for support.

"What do you mean by that? What about a week? What about true death? What —"

The crow scratched its feet on the statue, then flew so fast toward him that by the time Asdras blinked and felt the pain of being slapped by the crow's feathers, he was still seeing the crow in the same spot.

“Curse you, kid! I know you’re confused as hell and have questions swarming like bees, but I’ve got limited time in this form. Stop interrupting me, or everything we’ve done will be for nothing! For our sake, answer only with yes or no. Can you do that?”

Asdras was tempted to respond with more questions, but the urgency in the crow's voice stopped him. The gravity of the situation pressed down on him, and though he didn't fully understand, he sensed that this was something beyond normal experience — something tied to the awakening of his power. Swallowing his confusion, he nodded in agreement, signaling a simple yes.

“Good! Like you, my memory’s all muddled. One day I woke up from my slumber and found you wandering in the snow. Now here we are; at least you’ve started your awakening. Yes, started because you’re different. Listen closely; time is short as worms in apples. Have you received any message in some container?”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Yes.”

"Praise the fool who sent it! Now tell me."

“It was written on a wood stick: Last Death. Hidden Choice. Cut source. Defeat monster. Learn the song. Trust Joah. Don’t be a fool. Seek the Innkeeper. 347.”

“Good! A hidden choice, it seems… Listen up: You need to defeat that monster. As the message said, this is your last chance. To defeat it, cut its source, learn the song, and find another way to do it. I—”

The crow stopped mid-sentence, pausing for a moment that stretched into an uncomfortable silence. Asdras, on the verge of breaking the stillness with a question, watched in astonishment as the crow suddenly materialized in three different spots on the statue, flashing in and out of existence.

Each apparition lasted only a heartbeat, leaving a ghostly trail in its wake. Finally, the crow appeared near Asdras, panting heavily, its beady eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and urgency.

“Damnation! This curse is gnawing at me! Listen, kid: seek out that villager. Tell him you need to cut the source to defeat the monster. Tell him it’s the only way everyone can find peace, and—”

The crow stopped again, but this time its body flashed as if pulsing with an inner light. In an instant, it vanished. Asdras looked around frantically, trying to peek into every shadowy nook and cranny where a crow might hide, but he found nothing.

“What now? It vanished, just like that?”

Asdras stood in silence for a long moment, the sounds of the forest quieting and returning to their ominous whispers. He could hear his own heart beating out of pace, a rapid drumbeat against the eerie stillness.

Needing a human voice, a second opinion, he decided to walk back. The place gave him the chills, whether from the wheel, the crow, or the unsettling statue itself. As he made his way along the path, his mind churned, trying to extract any hint of useful information from the crow's cryptic words.

‘He said he’s now part of me. Hell it. Well, thinking about it, it kind of makes sense. Second mentioned that back in the day everyone had their own crow, and the emblem on my palm is a crow. But… I don’t know what else I was expecting to happen. I guess this is it.’

‘What about true death? What does he mean by that? Last Death means true death, so have I died before? How does that even make sense? How can someone die and then come back? And what’s this one week to live or die thing about? Well, Second said the monster comes and goes every week, so does that mean I only have one week to prepare for this fight? I’m stronger now, but I don’t think I’m stronger than that thing.’

‘He saw me in the snow before. Was it snowing a week ago? It doesn’t make sense; otherwise there’d be some sign of snow on the trees and ground. One thing is for sure: that monster must die; otherwise I'm doomed if I have to stay here longer than a week. Maybe talking to Second would help.’

As Asdras walked back to the campsite, he let his instincts take over, fixing his gaze upward as if tracing an imaginary line in his mind that guided him through the correct turns and paths.

By the time he passed the fences of the campsite, the transition from dusk to morning was underway, the shy red-orange sun breaking through the branches like a prisoner escaping confinement. His eyes were red and his mind exhausted, but an unreasonable desire for a straightforward answer drove him onward.

He made his way to the back of the campsite, where he found Second skimming and cleaning the animal with a dagger. Nearby, Sixth sat, watching and playing a tune on his lute.

When Sixth saw Asdras, he nodded and played the strings harder, adding a lively intensity to the melody. Second, noticing Asdras without taking his eyes off the animal, asked, "How it was?"

“It was a mess. First, that water — you’re right about the taste — and then the awakening. I saw a talking crow. That can’t be my power, right?”

Second paused for a moment, then looked up at Asdras's face. He noticed the blend of tiredness etched into Asdras's features, the scratches marring his skin, and the dried blood on his nose.

“Hell of a night, I see. Well, I don’t know if it’s your power or not. When we awaken, it’s a process that depends on the person and their potential. Some awaken fully in one day, others take more than a week, and I’ve heard some even take a month. Only when you hear that whispering voice calling your name, do you know you’ve truly awakened.”

Asdras found a nearby stool and sat down heavily, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The effort made his already red eyes even more bloodshot.

“What do I do now?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Right, it went like this…”

Asdras narrated his experience, his voice steady despite the exhaustion. Second listened intently, his eyes narrowing with interest, while Sixth continued to play a mood riff on his lute, the music weaving through Asdras's words.

By the time Asdras finished recounting the night's strange events, the sun had risen above the trees, bathing the campsite in a gloomy yellowish tone.

“I see,” Second said, stretching his hands. “I think I know what he meant by cutting the source and finding peace. I have a plan, Asdras, one that will make everyone happy somehow, but it depends on you. Are you ready to put your life against that monster?”

“No, but I don’t have any other choice. I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Good. First things first, go sleep. By the time you wake up, this little beauty will be on the fire, warming us and our bellies. After that, I’ll tell you how you’re going to slay that thing.”