The heavy warmth of sleep still hung behind my eyelids, but the sound from outside pulled me into the waking world. At first, I thought it was just the wind playing with a loose board, but then an unexpected sound broke through:
"Caw!"
I furrowed my brow. Lying on my thin mattress, I stared blankly at the ceiling as my mind tried to identify the sound. A crow. But why?
Rubbing my eyes, I slowly sat up. The wooden floor beneath my thin mattress had grown cold overnight. I shivered as my feet touched the ground. Nothing in my small, humble room had changed: my neatly folded clothes in the corner, the old wooden table by the wall, a few books, and a wooden spoon. Everything was in its place.
But the being in front of the door didn't belong here.
I slowly got up and made my way to the door. The hinges creaked slightly as the door opened, and in the pale morning light, I found myself face to face with a crow perched at the threshold.
Its jet-black feathers seemed to carry the remnants of the night. Its eyes were bright, alive, and far too aware. It tilted its head to one side and examined me. As if it had come to tell me something.
I didn't know this crow. But it seemed to know me.
I held my breath. Crows were common in the village, but none of them ever perched on a door and woke someone up. Moreover, it gave me an odd feeling—like a memory.
"What do you want?" I whispered, my voice lost in the morning cold.
The crow didn't respond. Suddenly, it spread its wings, and I took a step back. But it didn't fly away; it simply shook itself lightly.
That's when I noticed it.
On the doorstep, right at the edge of the threshold, something had been left. I bent down and took a closer look.
Was this… a feather?
But not just any feather. It was jet-black, with a faint bluish shimmer, and intricate patterns at the base—like some kind of carving. I stretched out my fingers, pausing just before I touched it.
What was this?
Behind me, the village was slowly waking up. But for me, this moment of morning felt like I had opened the door to another world.
---
The Silence of the Morning
I extended my hand, but then paused for a moment. The feather at the door seemed to glimmer strangely in the pale light of the morning. It was jet-black, yet it had a bluish glow at the base, almost like it carried a whisper inside. When I lightly brushed my finger over it, the softness and smoothness of the feather were unlike anything I had expected.
The crow was still standing there. It watched me with its eyes. Then, as if its task was complete, it opened its wings and, with a slow motion, took off. With a few strong flaps, it rose into the sky and disappeared into the morning mist.
Had it come to wake me up? Or had it come to leave this feather?
I suppressed the unease rising within me and bent down to pick up the feather. It was so light. But it still felt like it had a weight to it. I examined it a bit more, then, after a moment's hesitation, I tucked it into my pocket and returned inside.
The room was still cold. The sunlight streaming through the small window highlighted the cracks in the wall. I moved to my old table and took the wooden plate. There were a few leftover pieces of bread and an apple from the night before. As usual, my breakfast was simple and quick.
I chewed the bread in silence for a while, then tasted the slight tartness of the apple from the bite I took. I had grown used to eating alone. I had been born and raised in the village, but I had no family. I was considered an orphan—at least for now. Nobody treated me badly, but I didn't truly have a connection with anyone. Maybe with a few exceptions.
I placed the plate back on the table, then stood up and looked out the window.
The day was breaking. The village's dirt roads were wet and dark brown in the first light of the morning. People were preparing for the day ahead; a few had already left their homes, heading toward the fields or their work.
The village was located somewhere in the Ferdan Valley, next to the Tzaras Mountains. We were part of the Velmar Kingdom, though we weren't quite at the heart of the country, but not on the outskirts either. Although we were in the midst of a war with the Narethia Kingdom, we had yet to experience any military attacks. And it was a relief to have no such attack.
Each country has its heroes, chosen by the Yücels, the ones who take on the role of gods. In fact, they are often referred to as gods themselves. According to Edric—my father—they had been around since the beginning of time.
As for me, I worship Serathe, the goddess of travelers and the lost.
.
.
My plan was clear.
I needed to go to the forest.
There, I would have plenty of time to think. I could also think about the crow and the strange feather. Maybe I would hunt a little, and find fresh herbs and roots.
I threw my cloak over my shoulders and stepped outside.
It was cold. The sun had just risen, but the cold traces of the night wind still lingered in the air. As I walked along the road, I overheard some of the villagers talking to each other.
At first, it was all typical small talk. The fields, the animals, illnesses. But then, something more quietly spoken caught my attention.
"Strange sounds all night."
"They say something's happening at the summit. Fires rising."
I slowed my steps. I approached the two talking, an older man and a younger one, who looked like an apprentice. Both seemed anxious.
"What's happened?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
The younger one looked at me. "Didn't you hear?" he asked. "They say something happened at the top of Tzaras Mountain last night. People are saying they saw strange lights in the sky."
"What kind of lights?"
The old man furrowed his brow. "Red and blue, they say. Like flames, but they didn't spread. They appeared suddenly while the sky was clear, and then they vanished."
This was strange.
Tzaras Mountain had been the subject of many stories for centuries. But it was usually silent. Having grown up here, I had heard countless tales of strange things happening on the mountain's peak.
But lights?
"Has anyone tried to go up there?" I asked.
The young man shrugged. "No one dares. It's too high and too dangerous…"
The old man shook his head. "Mind your own business, son," he said. "Sometimes, it's best not to ask too many questions."
He might have been right. But something stirred inside me.
I bid them farewell and continued walking toward the forest.
Leaving the village behind and entering the trees, everything grew quieter.