Black wings cut through the air with surgical precision, their talons glinting like obsidian daggers. Dozens of them, maybe more, diving toward me in a coordinated assault.
Claws raked across my arms, slicing through fabric and flesh. I turned, trying to shield my face, but another struck from behind, dragging its beak through my wounded shoulder like a knife.
Pain bloomed white-hot.
Magic surged in response.
I screamed as I thrust my hands outward. The power from the ring erupted in a ripple of force, slamming into the nearest ravens mid-air. They exploded, disintegrating with high-pitched screeches.
But more came.
A storm of death, feathers, and fury, each bird an extension of The Morrígan’s will. I dropped to my knees, panting hard as warm blood ran down my side.
My fingers curled in the dirt. “Come on,” I said, desperation coating my tone. “Don’t let this be my end.”
The ring pulsed once… and then everything changed.
I lifted my hand, power bleeding from my fingertips, and the next wave of ravens slammed into an invisible wall. They shrieked, plumes scattering as if ash in a wildfire.
And then one by one, the birds froze midair, wings faltering. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, limbs contorting as if something inside them had turned to rot. Their feathers dulled from gleaming black to ashen grey, and their intelligent, malevolent eyes became glassy.
The air filled with the sharp, acrid stench of decay as they fell from the sky in jerking spirals, hitting the arena floor like crumpled leaves. Bones cracked. Beaks shattered on stone. Some dissolved entirely, reduced to flurries of soot and dust.
The last one gave a low, rasping croak before it withered mid-flight, its wings folding inward as if surrendering to its death.
I stood slowly, my breathing shaky. Brittle corpses, little more than husks, littered the ground. Magic hummed throughout the arena, alive and volatile, as if it had finally remembered its purpose.
And The Morrígan?
She smiled.
Not in defeat. But recognition.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”
Glancing around me, I took in the scene.
There was no mistaking it for anything else: an attack of the Wraith Borne.
The cuffs encircling my wrists shimmered as if to remind me of their presence. I didn’t understand it, but I knew the ring was somehow responsible.
“Do not worry… Daughter. I take care of my own,” The Morrígan said, reclaiming my attention.
It was then that I realized a dome of mist concealed us, keeping us hidden from the view of the spectators. My gaze darted to the withered bodies of the ravens. “What about them?”
The Morrígan smirked, waving her hand over the carcasses. The shriveled husks of the birds stirred. But instead of springing back to life, they crumbled into ash, weightless flecks that spiraled upward on an unseen breeze.
The remains drifted toward the twisted tree behind her, its branches curling inward as if welcoming them home. Shadows rippled across its surface as the blackened remains of the birds were consumed by the wood, as though the tree drank them in.
“They return to where all things do,” The Morrígan murmured, answering my unspoken question. “To the land of shadows. To me.” The bark pulsed, and a low, resonant hum filled the air. The fallen ravens were gone but not lost. I could still feel them watching me. “They’ll be reborn. As all my children are. Death is only the beginning.”
“And what about me?”
She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming. “That, Little Queen, remains to be seen.”
Without another word, she turned toward the twisted tree. Shadows surged up to meet her like a tide, swallowing her form in coils of mist and darkness. Her silhouette lingered for amoment, regal and terrifying against the bark, before vanishing, consumed by the very magic she commanded.
Silence fell, sharp as a blade.
