CHAPTER 18
Crow Master Raven stands upon the snow covered peak. The rugged, granite outcropping is above the evergreen tree level. A multitude of similar mountains span the horizon.
Raven is staring up at the skies with blood-filled eyes, their usual lovely violet concealed in a horrific dull red. Her gaze is distant. What she is seeing is not within her physical visual range.
Her arms are outstretched with palms facing upward. Her lips are moving rapidly as she murmurs an incantation. The words jumble together in an ancient tongue.
The pictographic runes on her silken robes are shimmering; the black, arcing symbols rustle and move together and around the clothing they appeared to have been woven into. Millions of tiny dots of crimson wink in and out of the writhing ebony mass.
A feathery shadow is racing across the sky, returning to its summoner. It momentarily occludes the wane, northern sunlight; much as a storm cloud will do at dusk. The ebony apparition is long, ending in what can only be described as ghostly tail feathers. The far reaching wingspan starts to retract – the length of the shadow consolidating, as it descends upon the Crow Master.
It dissipates suddenly upon contact with Raven's body. The blood in her eyes disperses, the irises reassuming their deep purple hue.