Elegiac Raven

Prologue

The great sun fell behind the horizon with a flare of brilliant orange and red, bringing with it a cool night that could be compared to none in history. Only a few dull rays of light crept above the land in the distance; the moon glowed with a silvery sheen above, it's light refracting back towards it from the blanket of white coating the ground.

The blanket was disturbed as a dark boot fell, bits of white entering the air only to fall back and reform with the body of snow. A cloak whipped about in the wind, it's dark color obscuring the man it concealed from sight. A shiver ran down his spine, and his teeth chattered, yet he moved on. There was no path, no road for his feet to travel, no cart he could rest in while horses pulled him behind. Only an endless field of snow.

He stumbled along in the frosty night, tripping over himself now and again, but finding his footing quickly for fear of being buried in the frozen beauty beneath his feet. A bastard sword hung at his side, bobbing slightly with his movements, the likeness of a raven carved into the pommel of the blade.

His black, bottomless eyes seemed to be shattered, useless. A mane of silky, raven-black hair whipped about his face just as his cloak whipped about his heals. His nose was red with cold, and his lips had become blue, cracked and dry.

As he set his foot down once more, his vision blurred and his knees became weak. He quivered for a second only, but soon his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his eyelids falling shut and his face dropping to the ground with a muffled thud. A light in the distance became brighter with every passing second.

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As the raven feasts

Our eyes become glassy

To see such beasts

We do not fancy

But as we may write

And love, and sing

As we have our plight

The raven does sing

For the raven

We fear for our lives

We are such cravens

Before the elegiac ravens

- Tuomas Westerly

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His feet stayed steady below him, but he felt as though he may collapse any second. Felt as though he would fall. His eyes were wrenched open in the moment he realized he was conscious. He spun his head wildly. Where had Tuomas landed? Last he remembered...

He shook his head. His mind had become foggy. How could it have? It seemed only a moment ago... he had been... where had he been? He brought his palm to his cheek, and stroked the stubble lining his chin. He winced in pain when the tips of his fingers made contact. Bringing his hand back, a horrified look crossed his face. The tips of his fingers had been blackened, the skin deflated and wrinkled. They were lifeless. The nerves running through his blackened fingertips were slowly dying.

An image flashed through his mind. The white blanketing the ground, him shivering in the layers of his cloak, his dark hair whipping about in the wind. That was it, he had been travelling through a frozen wasteland. The only question still posed to him was... where was he now?

The thought that he was conscious was thrown from the tower window. He stood on an impossible expanse of... nothing. White. Above, clouds rolled by at incredible speeds, flashing with lightning occasionally, yet still that light, fluffy white. Strangely enough, wind was not present.

Tuomas shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily only to open them once more to the great expanse of nothing. Stepping forward tentatively, the feeling of falling returned. What could have him feeling so?

In only seconds, but what seemed as hours to Tuomas, he had gone more than 100 yards. Yet the white still seemed to stretch on... and on. With no ending in sight. He sighed to himself - for there was nobody else there, who else could he sigh too? - and moved to sit on the ground.

As his foot slid along the ground, however, any substance that had been disappeared. He gasped as he fell into a pool of near black water, which envoloped his whole body before he could right himself. He threw himself forward and felt his feet make contact with the ground, and he pushed up. It was only then he realized he was nude, when the water made contact with his skin. His hair tumbled down his shoulders as he emerged from the water. He placed his fingertips against the glassy surface, his breathing becoming regular once more after a gasp of air when he surfaced.

He flung his head back to let the hair move from his eyes, then gazed back down into the pool in confusion. What was going on? More questions, and no answers. But he couldn't get ahead of himself. First he needed to know where he was in the first place; needed to know who he was.

Before him, the water seemed to drain the black out of itself, as if two substances would not mix and thus pushed away from the other. No... it was more than that. The blackness simply... vanished. The water before him was clear, as the water on the western shores was...

The western shores! Another chord was struck. Westerly... another piece clicked into place. Just as the westerly winds moved from the west to the east, so had he. Yet Tuomas still failed to grasp why. What was his reason for his journey? It was as if there were spaces in his mind where he knew something should be, but it did not fit. Spaces where family should be, where his adventures should be, where his identity should be. Things would begin to ease themselves back into his mind and then abruptly disappear, as if the very spirit of these things had died.

He cried out in frustration, letting his anger boil. "Damn it!" he wailed, bringing his fists down on the glassy surface. "Why can I not remember? Does fate enjoy destroying me?" Before him, as he continued to bring his fists down against the water, an image shimmered. The head of a raven peeked above the surface, seeming to chuckle to itself in a grotesque cawing. The sound pierced Tuomas's ears, and he cried out once more, bringing his hands from their fit to plug his ears.

The scavenger bird closed its beak in an instant, and confusion crossed Tuomas's face. Water droplets clung to its feathers, giving the black an unnatural sheen and highlighting the yellow of its beak as the sun shone down. It chuckled once more, but this time in a more deep, human-like voice. Tuomas tentatively removed his hands from his ears, watching the bird as it gave a flap of its wings, soaring into the sky. Once it reached a certain height, it began to circle over his head.

Tuomas's eyes darted around in confusion. Where the white had once been, now extended a great sea. Below the water, no creature lived. He felt sand between his toes, and yet no shells, no rocks. All that resided in this ever changing wasteland was him... and a bird that would devour his entrails once his body began to rot.

The confusion quickly shifted to fear. He had to get out of here... had to move... but no way out was visible. Fly with me. A voice echoed inside his head. He was so startled to hear the sound that he nearly fell backward into the water. Tentatively he asked, "Who... who said that?"

The voice seemed to snort. Me.

Tuomas gazed up in horror to see the bird's beady yellow gaze locked on him. The eyes seemed to bore into him, physically as well as mentally. What was it about that gaze? He shook his head, ridding himself of these... distractions. He replied, "I cannot fly, S-Sir..."

The raven sniffed. Do not call me sir. Call me... Tuomas, the Elegiac Raven. Since I am you, essentially.

A quizzical look crossed Tuomas's face. "You are... me?"

If a raven could nod, Tuomas would swear it just had. Do you remember all of those images you just could not grasp? They eluded you, burning, always burning away, seeming to die? Tuomas nodded, and the bird continued. I hold those memories. it stated simply.

Tuomas let tears stain his cheeks. Tears of desperation, of hope, of confusion. "Please... will you help me? Will you give them back?" He was immersed in his emotions; too irrational to predict what the raven would say next.

No. It paused, allowing Tuomas the chance to drain his sorrow before he continued. Tuomas wailed once more, a sound one only makes when a person is in the utmost amount of pain. The bird pitied the man now in control of the body. As the cries settled, the raven continued. Your mind has been essentially split; Your memories are still all here, but you cannot access them. Do you remember the day in the wintry land?

Tuomas stayed silent. He did. Of course you do. But you still don't remember who you are. You could call this your second chance. You could call this a hell. Whatever you wish. But know this; after all the hard experience I, you, have gained, it may be wiser to void your wishes to remember. I am not sure the new me, the new you, could accept it.

Tuomas shook his head. "Please... I just want to know..." he whispered sadly. The raven sighed and swooped down beside Tuomas, alighting upon the water, as if it were solid. Maybe it was. Tuomas did not know.

Tuomas, you cannot. Even if I wanted to tell you, there is a gap between us that just won't allow it. You can choose to bridge that gap, but if you do, you will not like what you find. I can assure you of that. I am who you are.

Tuomas's rage had built enough. He brought his fist forward, intending to smash the beak on this bird into its skull. Too slow. The bird brought its wings down and ascended once more; it began to circle again. "Tell me!" he roared at the raven. "Tell me!"

I cannot. And I do not wish to. This is your second chance in life. I'm forcing you to take it. To be happy. The raven's form began to become mottled; it seemed to break apart, becoming black spots against the sky. Tuomas Westerly, you are a new person. The raven's voice echoed through Tuomas's head before finally fading into silence.