Chapter 2 – Saint Kara

The "witch" didn't have much to go on seeing as she kept having rolling black outs. She couldn't differentiate nightmares from hallucinations, the underworld from the material world. She would think she was conscious and hear screams and see the fading flicker of flames engulfing the environment around her. She'd then see herself flying overhead a forest of lush, green trees full of life.
She'd then pass over an ocean, smelling the fresh salty air, listening to the ever present circling waves and feeling the fresh spray of sea water on her face.
She would then see darkness engulfing and suffocating the air. She did not see people running and screaming as earlier. She saw warriors in silver and black armor, charging into battle, colliding with demons and monsters of the darkness. My former life? She wondered vaguely.
She didn't have any sense of time or reality for the next several days that passed. The person who found her and kept tucked under his wing was a mere humble monk. He was making a voyage to a little town to meet his new student, only to find a scene of massacre. He trembled a bit at the horrific scene that was laid before him. He put his hand reflexively on his chest but he quickly regained his composure. He looked to the skies and frowned.
He knew immediately that there was something unnatural about this scene. He has been unfortunate to have seen many scenes of massacre before, villages destroyed by raiders, usually orcs or goblin slaves. They would take all the money and items of value with them and then they would brutally slaughter men, women and children alike, taking some as slaves.
However from this death scene the monk could see by scanning the rotting corpses that many still had their few valuables. Intact jewelry still dangled from pale throats. He did not touch the bodies for he did not want to corrupt his soul.
He closely observed their wounds to determine the cause of death. Some had burns but the most troubling thing he observed was the deep lacerating wounds along their bodies. Some heads were completely severed clean off along with legs and arms. The monk noted the size and width of gashes and he became increasingly disturbed. They were too big for a humanoid to cause, even if it were by a two handed sword, but it was strange how it looked like nothing he's seen. It seemed like multiple swords but they all cut through in one strike. The scene was gruesome but too tidy for ogres or trolls. From his knowledge only the finest of swords from the Far East could've caused it, but the wounds were too jagged.
As he continued to investigate and give prayers to the souls, he came upon the body of his would-have-been student. He hardly recognized him for a deep gash had gone across his face, caving in his jaw and nose splitting his skull. As he finished praying for the poor boy, he noticed a wisp of something small and dark float through the air and caught it.
He held a thin black feather in his hand and examined it. Not a second after he held up the feather to the light, he heard something close from his left. He whipped around, startled and disturbed by the noise.
A crow was perching on a body of a buff young looking man, who gingerly picked at his eyes. The crow looked at the monk and cawed at him.
Only it was no ordinary caw.
It sounded like a croak and a gurgle, eerie and haunting. The monk raised his staff noticing more of them, all of them gathering near him. They appeared to be glaring at him, their feathers unnaturally dark and ungroomed; they opened their beaks and croaked at him. A long rattling, ghastly caw that echoed in his ears, sending shivers down his spine.
These crows are not from this realm, he thought. He shuddered as his brain scanned his pool of memories and knowledge of them.
The monk then saw a body twitch a few feet away from him. He ran quickly towards it and carefully turned it over.
He saw it was a woman, carrying nothing but tattered black rags. She had long flowing black hair and no gashes to be seen other then two near her two shoulder blades. He noticed the necklace she was wearing and nearly fell to his knees, adrenalin making his weak heart pump furiously. It was a symbol of a crow with a single tear falling from its eye, holding in its talons a hammer smashing the sun.
"Saint Kara..." nearly breathless he tried to carry the girl in his arms. He dropped her abruptly when he felt something sharp cut his arm.
"What in the 9 Hells...-"
She landed on her stomach and she whimpered faintly. The monk's eyes widened in terror as the girl's curse revealed itself.

The woman finally woke several days later on a simple bed similar to Henson's. She felt a throbbing pain in her heart from the memory. She quickly scanned her surroundings, trying to sit up finding surprisingly that she did not have any more physical pain. She was in some sort of temple. Not even having to close her eyes she could feel the energy of peace and tranquility surrounding and enveloping her, warm and comforting. She caught a whiff of the strong smokey smell of sage burning, and to the left of her bed she discovered a cup of hot tea. She took the cup and took a deep sniff. It was a mixture of sweet herbs along with the faint smell of medicinal herbs. The vapors alone made her tense shoulders relax to her sides. She took a sip and enjoyed the sweet moment of security and silence, the first since she first woke in the plains. Her mind felt a lot clearer, but still lacked her memory. She listened to the chirp of birds outside and a light rustle of leaves blown by a soft breeze that came through an open window.
"I knew you would awake today." said the monk who appeared silently at her door, "Enjoy your tea and meet me in the garden when you are ready." He left the hallway.
The girl finished her tea, taking her time to enjoy the moment of rare peace. She had the distinct feeling that it was something she very rarely had. That would include her unknown past and she sensed her future as well. She finished the last of the tea, using her finger to get the herbs from the bottom of the cup, and stretched. She sighed and slowly rose. As she took her first few steps she could feel that her muscles were greatly weakened. Her weeks of bed rest and sickness had diminished her strength. She shuffled weakly though the hallway and saw an open door leading to the garden.
Her eyes squinted as she entered the sunlight, and then opened her eyes fully to the wonderful sight. A beautiful garden filled with multiple plants and flowers of all bright colors. There was a section where she saw herbs growing healthy shades of green. Small trees grew all around and in the center were a bench was the monk was sitting waiting for her. She walked to the center and sat beside him.
"Your name is Raven," the monk finally said after a long silence between them, "Your life has been a long struggle before you came to this point in time in this world. Your memory should recover eventually with time so it is not my place to tell you more than is necessary. I hope you understand why."
Raven took a moment to process.
"My name seems to have a familiar ring to it... But what kind of life? A good or a bad one?"
"I believe you are capable of answering it just by looking inside yourself," he replied wisely, "everyone knows what kind of person they are at heart, with or without their memory."
So she took a deep breathe a stilled herself. She felt a warm glow in her heart like she felt when she was in the cabin in the village. She remembered her feelings of injustice against Henson's brutal murder without cause. She had her answer.
"I am a good person I believe. I can't understand the cause for unjustifiable acts such as murder."
The monk nodded. "You're good at heart, past and present. What else have you discovered since you first woke up without your memory?"
She scanned her memory, recollecting the mental notes she made to herself of the reflexive actions that she didn't know she had.
"I think I have the muscle reflex memory for using a sword, and my eyes aren't human." She pointed at her eyes. "They called me the eagle-eyed witch."
The monk nodded again, with a grim face. "No you aren't of human race, and yes, you have skill for the sword." His hand gestured towards a pair of swords lying beneath the monk's only garden statue of an angel in armor with a commanding gentle face and her arms wide open to the world as if asking Raven to join in a great battle alongside her.
Raven picked up the long sword and short sword and examined the craftsmanship. The handles were black with gems that glittered in a deep shade of blue. Raven took a few swings in the air.
Ah! Now I remember, she thought as she swung the two swords around with accurate control and coordination in defensive and offensive positions. She then gently placed them back beneath the statue, she felt winded already.
"Very good, you see," praised the monk. "Certain actions will bring about memories of skills you have over time. Come, sit. I have another few important things to mention to you now before we retire your mind for the day."
Raven rejoined the monk on the bench and looked at the man.
"Wait before you continue, what is your name?" Raven asked, feeling guilty. The monk is helping her recover and she doesn't even know his name yet.
"Ah yes. It's Ankhaz. I am a monk who runs this monastery, and I happened to find you and brought you here. Part of the reason why fate allowed me to find you is what you wear around your neck." He pointed at Raven. She looked down and saw the pendant. The crows airborne with the single tear falling from its eye, a giant hammer held in its claws smashing what looked like the sun.
"What is it?" She closed her eyes tight trying to remember. The only thing she got was a warm feeling in her hand as the necklace began to glow softly.
"It is the symbol for Saint Kara." He said.
Raven looked at the glowing pendant with amazement. "Who is Kara?" She asked.
"She is a Saint in a league of angels. Her adventures as a mortal were legendary. She fought against many enemies and did her part to protect the innocent. She followed the God of Death named Darkhen with great faith." He explained.
"Why would a fighter against evil be worshipping a God of death?" Raven judged quickly.
"Darkhen is a very misunderstood God. He protects the natural laws of death and frowns upon such beings that bend those laws. Some examples of taboos are spells and potions to increase your lifespan unnaturally or using a spell to resurrect someone." He explained in detail, "Kara believed in his views and followed his quests to rid the world of unnatural demons seeking to cause death and destruction by resurrecting the undead. She followed him so faithfully she made a vow of chastity and in turn he gave her more power." He said.
Raven looked at the necklace again.
"So why is the crow crying?" She asked childishly.
"She ended up breaking her vow of chastity by falling in love with a great warrior. It made Darkhen angry, so he cursed her and her lover." The monk said sadly.
There was a moment of silence between them, as the birds chirped happily in the trees.
"So why is her necklace on me?" Raven asked, breaking the silence.
"My assumption is that she's protecting you. I do not know much about you, but I have a feeling that your memory will reveal great events, perhaps horrific ones also." He added cautiously, "Don't be in a rush to unveil them, they may…overwhelm you." the monk paused his eyes shifting nervously only for a slight second toward her back, then back to her face.
Raven continued to stare at the pendant, it slowly stopped glowing. Ankhaz stood up and stretched.
"Why don't we go inside and eat something? You must regain you strength, you sword swing like a girl." He mused as he walked back into the monastery.