The Raven

CHAPTER ONE
THE RAVEN

I calmed my anxious heart but there was no time for me to relax. There would be no rest for an ancient dark sorceress who’d been recently turned into a vampire. I was alone again, and at endless war with countless enemies. Humans, beast-shifters, and rival witches. Bounty hunters, bloodsuckers, and Necromancers. Angels, demons, and the Devil.
There was something every single one of the evil bastards and heartless whores that hated me had in common. All of them wanted me dead and sent back to the fires of Hell.
They dared to call me a monster but compared to them I was holier than the sinless mother of Jesus. The ghoulish people and wicked creatures that I’d killed over the past two thousand years were all worthy of the gruesome deaths they’d received.
But had I deserved to be tortured for weeks and then hanged in public by the High Priest of the Church? The nerves in my neck still throbbed with pain whenever I remembered that dreadful day.
My two best friends were now trapped within solid shells of black quartz. The Archdemoness named Medusa had vomited her unique attack all over their naked flesh, dooming both Skye and Gretchen to suffer until they perished.
I imagined them panting for a tiny drop of water on their tongues or groaning for a small nibble of meat in their mouths. And without any possible way to nourish themselves. Or worse, they’d already been strangled to sleep by the absence of oxygen.
The filthy satyr known as Satan had disappeared from the rooftop of Blood Tower where I continued to hide from the Prince of Vampires. If only the young prince had been alone, I could’ve destroyed him with black magic. But the bloodsucking son of a bitch had an Archdemoness as a bodyguard. Would he have been so brave without Medusa by his side?
My dear goblins, where are you when I need you? I had serious doubts that Cerissa had actually eaten Gmok and Nokk. Goblin meat was incredibly tough to chew and hard to swallow. Even if slow-cooked and with teeth able to grind their flesh into edible bits, the taste of goblins was still nauseating. Some creatures were simply not meant to be consumed as food. Especially demons, whose blood was fatally poisonous to all living things.
“Black Annis, daughter of Amelia, the daughter of Lucifer,” said a creaky voice. “I am not your enemy, nor your friend, but simply a messenger.”
An enormous white raven had perched above me on a tall metal antenna attached to the tower. The aging bird’s head was balding, and he wobbled as if struggling to keep his balance. One of his bluish eyes was also missing.
“You look tired, poor raven,” I said. “How old are you?”
“Not nearly as old as you, evil sorceress. But I’ve lived much longer than most of my kind.”
I sighed. “Let’s see how much longer you live. I hope you brought me some good news.”
He laughed. “Is a vampire witch worthy of good news? If my message is not to your liking, can I expect you to eat me, as you eat humans?”
“Don’t tempt me, raven. What is your message?” I asked, impatiently.
“I am Baltas, the last living son of Corbu, and appointed leader of the western ravens. My message is this: Jump from the tower. End your own life willingly, return to Hell where you belong, and your companions shall be spared.”
“Wow, I wonder who sent you, Baltas,” I said, sarcastically. “Perhaps my grandfather?”
“Indeed, it was him.” The shaking bird slowly nodded. “He only wants what is best for you.”
“Tell your master I said no fucking chance.”
The raven croaked loudly. “You will regret this! Say goodbye to your companions. I have delivered my message.”
Baltas spread his pale wings, one by one, and prepared to take flight. But I had other plans for him.
“Immolate!” I ignited the elderly bird into a ball of flames. He flew straight up into the midnight sky but didn’t make it very far.
The smoking sphere of his barbecued flesh and burning feathers fell down onto the roof of the tower. His long beak cracked, and his little bones crumbled as steaming hot blood splashed in all directions.
As he’d burned to death, with his final breath the raven had spewed out a flurry of horrible curses and nasty profanities at me, which was typical of his kind.
All creatures, with fur or feathers, unique or common, young or old, of light or of darkness, who threaten me or my friends, shall be held personally accountable for their foolish words, messengers or not.
I didn’t enjoy watching a rare white raven die, but the almost extinct species of bird had chosen his fate by serving the Devil. Once upon a time, ravens were allies of Black Witches, and we’d employed them to deliver our own messages across great distances.
But their greed for glittering gold and lust for shiny gems meant the highly intelligent birds were untrustworthy. The ravens ultimately betrayed the Black Witches and sold our secrets to our worst enemies. I normally killed the backstabbing birds to stop them from spying on me, plus they notoriously harassed witches with the cruelest of insults.
At least Baltas had lived a long life, even though he probably spent most of his days betraying whoever he could in order to decorate his nest with golden treasures and colorful jewels.
Raiding the massive nests of giant ravens had always been rewarding, and many exotic magical items had been discovered hidden away in their homes. A legendary Dwarven battle hammer, known as Skull Smasher, had been lost for a thousand years but was eventually found in an abandoned raven’s nest.
Part of me wondered what priceless possessions the greedy bastard Baltas had stashed at the top of some tall tree or under a rocky overhang of a high cliff. Considering he was the leader of the western ravens and had probably lived over a hundred years, the dead old bird’s nest was surely worth looting.
Once my friends were rescued, maybe I could convince Skye and Gretchen to help me locate the white raven’s home and we’d split the profits three ways.
Of course, as a finder’s fee, any legendary magical weapons we acquired would be mine to claim first.
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Published on September 29, 2022 04:46
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Dark Goddess

Aubrey Law
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual pe ...more
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