Beware the Crow

|-Saturday evening, March 16th, 2024. Virginia, I95, heading south-|

God I hate these roads. Especially at night. Nothing but black asphalt I can barely see. I need to get better headlights. Speaking of... I haven't seen another car on the road since I passed Richmond. Weird... I get that it's close to midnight but I'd still expect to see someone else driving every now and then. At least give me that as some kind of human connection. Not this darkness and woods. Just me, the road, and the wind... And something else I can't explain. It's like I'm being watched by... something or someone in those trees. Doesn't matter how fast I drive. How far I get from the first instance. The feelings of eyes on me persists. I swear I see glowing red eyes from the tree line. Keeping pace to, which is horrifying. This is I95 I'm on. Speed limit is like, 75 miles per hours. I'm just ten below it. And yet... those eyes keep following. It's probably the lack of sleep. I haven't had a good night's rest in a few days. Can't remember when I closed my eyes in the past 36 hours. I need to change that. I should be coming up on Stony Creek. There's a few hotels just outside of the town, right?

I tap my phone, pulling up the map. Yeah, two roadsides just north of the town. Fairfield and a Sleep Inn. Latter is cheaper. Still, $80 for one night? Jesus... Should've just holed up in Richmond. I keep driving, just enough to see that sign appear in the night. Salvation at last. I pull in and get ready for the night. Pay at the desk. Take only what I need for the morning in with me. Make my way to the second floor. Get through the door and turn on the lights. Two beds, and a charging port by the little TV that I know doesn't work for shit. Why would it? Barely has anything good on it anyhow. It's barely past 9 PM. Wait, seriously? Only 9 pm? Sleep really is hitting me like a truck.

Legs are getting weak. Breaths deeper and longer. The second I hit that pillow, I'm out. Thank fuck.

|-Sunday morning, March 17th. Stony Creek-|

Not the best sleep, but it's better than nothing. Far better. I feel rested. That is until I check the time. Three in the morning? I really couldn't sleep for another two hours, huh? Knowing me, I won't get back to sleep, so I'll just get the road's routine started. Slip out of my clothes. Brush my teeth. Shower. Brush hair. I'm about to get my clothes on when I hear something hit the door. Or rather, the window. At least I think I heard something. I get my clothes on and carefully look through the curtains. Nothing. I swear I heard something. Maybe the lingering sleep deprivation is still messing with me. I pay it no more attention and get my stuff ready. As I finish packing my bag, I hear something hit the window again. This time I'm certain of it. Something soft. Maybe feathers. But it was with some speed and force. I go back to the window, and look out even more carefully. I slowly peek behind the curtain, and see nothing... at first. I scan the tree line that's a good 300 feet away. Something is there and I can't quite explain it. It's more of a feeling than something tangible and quantifiable. You need to be here to really understand what I'm getting at. The air in the room feels off. And the sensation of eyes from last night has come back. Then I see them. Two little beady red dots near the top of the trees. The same ones from last night. Just what are you? And why are you following me? Then I get a feeling that fills me with nothing but dread: Those red eyes looking straight at me. Piercing my soul. I knew they were following me, but now they know I'm here. And I don't know how I feel about this. I can't just leave. Not when those eyes are right there.

I step away from the window, shaken up by everything. Maybe it's still just my head messing with me. It has to be. I'm not some superstitious person. Nor do I believe in magic. It's just my eyes playing tricks on me. I just spent a straight day and a half awake. No sleep. No naps. Nothing. That kind of thing does numbers to the psyche. But what if... No. That's stupid. Just because it's three in the morning doesn't mean that things gets weird. I don't believe in that Witching Hour bullshit. It's just stories and how people understood the world to work before we truly began to look deeper. But that feeling...

thud

Another hit on the window. This time louder. Like whatever did it before wants me to see it. I know I shouldn't. But you know what they say: Curiosity killed the cat. I slowly return back to the window and look out. Nothing out of the ordinary at first until... I look at my car. There's a crow on it. But it looks bigger than it should. And I can't tell if it's because of the light, but it looks like it's made out of gold. Regardless... Just looking at this thing makes me uneasy. It's like it';s something I shouldn't see. You know Lovecraft? What's he most known for? Cthulhu, right? Just one glance at the cephalopodic bastard breaks your entire mind. That's what this feels like. I need to look away, but I can't. Whatever this... thing is... it's got my full, undivided attention. And I do mean thing.

That's not a crow. Fuck. That's not a bird. It's something else. But I can't prove it. Finally, I manage to break free. My heart is pounding. I need coffee. Or something. Anything to forget whatever the hell that was. But that buffet isn't ready yet.

|-Later that morning-|

Food. Thank god. It's about eight right now, and they just got the breakfast bar open. Coffee, eggs, bacon and some toast paired with mindlessly scrolling YouTube. Again, trying to forget what I saw earlier this morning. So I scroll while I eat: Family vloggers getting outed for being shitty people. Deep dives into some obscure 90s horror game. Weird ARGs. Nothing out of the ordinary for me. I then switch to social media, and see I have a message on Instagram. Maddy? Isn't she working at this hour? Maybe she has the day off. I tap it and see what's on her mind.

'How much longer until you cross the state line?' Is what she’s asking. I think about how I'm gonna answer this. I've been driving nonstop for almost two days. I'm coming down from Phillie. I should've been in Wilmington by now. But I had to get a job done first before heading out.

'I had to stop for the night. Haven't sleep in a day and a half and needed the rest.' I respond, seeing the three dots that mean she’s typing out her response. Looks like she keeps rethinking until she sends it. The dots appear then disappear multiple times.
'Oh... Right... Forgot... Sorry...' She finally gets out. Bad habit of hers: apologizing when she didn’t do anything that warrants it.
'If I start driving now, I can get to Wilmington in like, three hours, give or take ten minutes.' I tell Maddy. That seems to satisfy her as I don't get another response. Better make good on that promise. I quickly finish eating, down the rest of my coffee and head out. Get in my vehicle. Key in the ignition. Turned. Engine roars to life and I'm soon on the road. Asphalt running smoothly under the tires is a feeling that never gets old. Well... as smoothly as US roads can be. But I can't complain. Not at all...

...
...
...

Until a bird shits on my windshield. God dammit. The universe is testing me. I briefly look around and see nothing. Bird's probably a bit too high but then I hear cawing. A crow. Great. A... A crow... And then this morning comes flooding back. The red eyes. Those golden feathers on that... "bird". And then I see the crows. A whole murder. One bigger than it should be. I feel like I've been cursed by... something. This is gonna be a helluva weird month. Let's just hope this is as weird as it gets.

|-Sunday afternoon, March 17th, 2024. Wilmington, North Carolina-|

After miles of backroads and farm fields... a proper city. Finally. Thank god. I've never been happier to see Wilmington. I can get over this hour-long bout of hay fever and I can put the troubles of this morning behind me. At least I hope I can. The feeling of eyes has finally gone away. That's progress if I've ever seen it. Just another fifteen minutes and I'll be there. Lights are becoming more commonplace. And a lot of them are busy. Guess it must be that church crowd, coming home to berate a minimum wage worker at the local McDonald's after partaking in the "love" of Christ. What a load of shit.

Before long, I see the apartment complex: The Cordelia on 4711 Azalea Landing Drive. Not a bad place to live, honestly: Buildings look clean and modern. You've got some services within walking distance. A pool. Should be standard for most complexes like this. Pretty nice. Maddy's car is here. Guess she does have the day off. I park, exit my vehicle, and walk up to her apartment. It's 1E, right? Or was it 2F? Fuck. I've forgotten. That's not good. As I try to figure out a way to remove myself from this situation, I hear Maddy's voice.

"Hey Cam!"

I quickly turn around and see that giant mane of red hair rushing towards me. Within a second I'm on the ground. She really needs to understand how strong she actually is. Good god.

"You made it." She says while casually smothering me.
"Yeah, yeah... I did. Can I get up now?" I say between frenzied breaths. She doesn't waste any time getting off of my, which then allows me to get onto my feet. I dust myself off and look her in the eyes.

"Really? Onto a solid slab of concrete?" My voice cracks slightly as I speak.
"Oh, you didn't fracture anything. Come on. Everyone's been waiting for you." She says, and now my interest has been piqued.
"Okay, ye- What? I thought you lived alone?" She looks very confused while I ask the question. As if I just discombobulated her.

"Why... Wouldn't I have roommates? It's a three bedroom apartment. Of course I live with other people." She tells me Right. It is three bedrooms. I am... really stupid. Wait? Where the hell am I gonna sleep then if it's only three bedrooms? Maddy's not gonna make me laze on a couch, is she? God dammit. I don't get much time to brood though as she grabs me by the wrist and drags me along with her. We reach the stairwell and we go up. To the third floor of building 4721. I was way off base. How fun. We reach her apartment and I take note of the number on the door: 3G. Remember that. Commit that shit to memory. She opens the door and leads me through.
Immediately I notice a few things: A deer skull mounted above the TV. Several screen-prints on the wall. Looks like vistas from Austria. Or is it Germany? Probably Germany. One of those castles looks Neuschwanstein Castle. Only reason I know what that looks like is because one of my old roommates was a buff on Bavarian history. Another section of the space has a bunch of diagrams of birds. Guess I know where Maddy's workspace is now. We get into what is more or less the center of the space and Maddy announces that we're here.

"Alright! He's here!" She yells as two people come out of their respective bedrooms. A tall farm-hand looking guy with a baby face and a buzz-cut and a short woman of slender build with black hair. Maddy wastes no time in introducing me to them.

"Cam, this is Bo and Reilly. They're my roommates." She says, that electric energy from earlier still present.
"Well, hey there! Glad to know ya." The guy says is a very heavy accent. I assume this is Bo.
"Same. Now Maddy can shut up about you." Her statement causes me to hold back the slight laughter tearing at my vocal cords. Just knowing how excitable she can get does make me warm and fuzzy inside.

"I bet she hasn't. She'll talk your ear off if you let her." I respond, knowing it’ll get a reaction out of Maddy.
"Hey!" She thumps my side in an attempt to stop me, but I know it's in good fun. It's nice to actually see her again. I really did need this.

|-Later that night. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G-|

That Bo is a damn good cook. Probably learned from his little southern grandma. I may not be knowledgeable when it comes to southern cuisine, but I know good food when I taste it. And that meal... was delicious. But that came and went. Now, I am on the couch sitting next to Maddy as she look at her phone. She's not texting anyone, so... Maybe looking at pictures? Should I prod? She does look concerned. I should ask.
"Whatcha lookin' at?" I prod ever so slightly.
"Hmm? Oh it's... You probably wouldn't understand." Oh, we're doing this again. Fun.

"Bullshit I 'won't understand'. Come on. Spill it." Maddy huffs at the command before she starts to speak again. My prodding is clearly an annoyance, but one she's just as clearly missed.

"These past few weeks... Weird things have just been happening." She starts saying.
"Like what?” I can tell from the look in her eyes that I probably won't believe her. But that doesn't mean I still can't help, even if it is just lending an ear with which she can air out her problems.

"Bird feathers have just been... appearing in and around Dobo Hall. Most are by my office. They look to be either Corvus cornix or Corvus corone. But not Corvus ossifragus, and definitely not Corvus brachyrhynchos. But why? Why are crow feathers just... showing up at my office? Is this just some kind of prank? If so, what's the punchline? It's also not funny. It's annoying." She says in detail and scientific jargon I don’t understand.
"Uh... English, please." I respond, wanting terms I can get into my head.
"The feathers aren't from a New World corvid. They're coming from an Old World crow. Either hooded or carrion, but..." Maddy trails off as she speaks. She's tense. Maybe afraid, but mostly confused. Shit, I'd be confused if crow feathers started appearing in a place of importance to me. Wait, crow feathers... Crow feathers... Oh no... It comes rushing back to me. That golden "crow" I saw this morning with those little red and beady eyes it had. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. Visibly. And Maddy sees it.

"You're not cold, are you?" She asks, concern evident in her voice.
"What? No. Just... Thinking about stuff." I tell her, not wanting to make her worry any more.
"What kind of stuff?" She continues.
"Dumb stuff you don't need to worry about." That seems to take the heat off me. Maddy doesn't press the issue any further. But looking at this sofa...

"You're not gonna make me sleep on this, are you?" I say as I lay the leather couch.
"That couch? No. Bo has an air mattress. He doesn't mind sharing his room with you while you're here." Well, I guess that takes care of that problem.

|-Monday morning, March 18th, 2024. Dobo Hall, University of North Carolina at Wilmington-|

I swear, if I see another damn feather... When I decided to study ornithology, this not what I expected. Trying to figure out why the feathers of an old world crow are appearing at random throughout the biology department. It's been weeks. I'm started to get very annoyed. I round the corner and see Dr. Emslie. He looks... bemused.? I wouldn't be surprised if it's because of what I'm thinking it's about.

"Good morning, Dr. Emslie." I say to him, wanting to try and ease whatever tension is in the air.
"Oh, Maddy. Our resident 'corvid expert'." He responds, annoying me greatly. I'm not an expert on anything, least of all corvids. I wanted to study marine birds, like pelicans and albatross. Maybe even study their evolution if I can get that far. But this feather business is hampering those plans. Crows creep me out. They're too loud and too smart for their own good. I don't like it.

"For the foreseeable future, yes. There's more feathers, aren't there?" I tell him, just wanting a regular day of my graduate studies.
"Yes. Still no idea as to why they keep appearing?" He responds. Just the thing I wanted to hear. "The answer has not changed." I say as I peer over Emslie's shoulder. Sure enough, there is a pile of crow feathers outside his door. This is gonna take a while.

...
...
...
...
...

With the feathers collected and disposed of, we go our separate ways for now. I continue on to my office, open the door, enter the space, and sit down. I take a deep breath and try to center myself. My favorite mug is still missing. Been that way since I came back from winter break. I don't think I'm gonna find it anytime soon, might as well buy a new one to fill the space. I'm also trying to not think about crows anymore today. And yet, the universe has different plans, because something catches my eye. A glint behind my computer monitor. I reach behind... and pull out another feather, and become even more confused. Why is is so large? And why is it gilded in what looks like gold?

|-Monday morning, March 18th, 2024. Dobo Hall, University of North Carolina at Wilmington-|

I... don't know what to make of this. How did it end up behind my computer monitor? Hell, how did this get into my office? I keep the room locked whenever I'm not here. This shouldn't have been possible. And yet... here we are. Going off of the patterns, or rather lack there of, it looks to belong to a carrion crow, Corvus corone, but it's too big. Carrion crows are on average ~50 cm in length and their wingspans are close to 100 cm at most. With the size of this feather, I'm thinking whatever animal left this is closer in size to a raven. But again, the way the feather is shaped and the patterns look more like a carrion crow. Then there's the pressing question: What is a Old World crow doing here in North Carolina? The only place I can think they'd be is the zoo but that's over in Asheboro. And I don't even know of they have any exhibits that feature corvids. This just doesn't make sense. I set the feather down in a drawer on my desk and shut it before running my hands over my face.

What do I do? I'm lost. What do I have today?

I look to my schedule and see what is lined up. It's Monday, so not much until the afternoon. Biology labs. I could get some paperwork done, get progress going on my thesis... But that damn feather keeps occupying my mind. It's like it's something I shouldn't know exists. As if I'm losing my mind the more I think about it, let alone look at it. But I need to know. So against my better judgement, I pull it back out. I turn it over in my hands a few times, taking in the luster it has.

How? That is gold. The entire feather seems to be made out of it, not covered or gilded. Yet it feels as light as a crow feather should. And it's still warm. Meaning that whatever left this was still alive when it got plucked. But how would something like this even get plucked? I doubt it would like being handled. Especially with that kind of intent. I run my finger along the side. It's odd... It doesn't feel like metal. Feels exactly like a feather. I also take note on how it's doesn't really move. No deformation whatsoever. Which only adds to my confusion. So much about this just doesn't make sense...

I decide to let rational take over and put the feather away again. I can't get anymore distracted than I have been. I need to focus. I turn on my monitor and start working. Studying pelicans and their evolution. It's quite interesting as I had to go back to the evolution of birds as a whole which happened in the Jurassic. Really fascinating stuff. Maybe after all this is over I'll actually study corvids seriously.

...
...
...
...
...

Who am I kidding? That's not gonna happen. Crows and ravens creep me out. Too loud. Too dark. And too smart. Way too smart for their own good. I don't want to this about this anymore. Not when I have a thesis to write.

|-Monday Afternoon, March 18th, 2024. Long Leaf Park, 314 Pine Grove Drive-|

Afternoon run finished. Now? I rest. And this park is pretty damn good spot to do just that. Looks like it has a lot of benches. We got the sun out in the sky, nary a cloud in sight and he weather is perfect. We got the beach not too far and the aquarium is only 20 miles away. What more could a guy ask for? I could do a lot while I'm here in Wilmington. A lot that can put me at ease. A lot that I'm already doing to relax. So why... Do I still feel... those damn eyes on me? I can't shake them wherever I go. Not since yesterday morning. I felt them when I woke up. I felt them when I was in the shower. And I felt them today while I was running. Every dark alley I see them, red and intense. It's driving me mad. Everywhere I go... those damn eyes are following... There's gotta be something I can do. Or maybe it's just my mind fucking with me. Sleep deprivation can do numbers on ya and that shit will last for weeks. That has to be it. So that I'm not wasting time, I start to head back to my car, still weary from the feeling of being watched. I just want it to stop. I get in, start the engine and start heading back to Maddy's apartment. Maybe this time I'll be able to relax.

The drive is calm. Too calm. I don't like this. Something could happen at any moment and fuck everything up. Just get back. Just get back. Don't focus on anything else. Definitely don't look at the red dots down that darkening street. Not a good idea. Psyche already has enough shit to deal with.

I manage to get back with no issues. Other than the feeling of being watched, of course. Something tells me that won't go away anytime soon. I get up to third floor, room 3G and enter. Already I'm starting to feel less tense, that is until a very distinctive southern drawl snaps me out of my head.

"You doin' alright? You seem a little strung out." I look and see Bo standing by his door, a look of worry on his face.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit winded." I respond, not wanting to make him worry anymore.
"Winded from what? Seein' a ha'nt? You lookin' paler than a ghost hisself." He then says. Honestly, I'm surprised no one has noticed yet. I look like I've been drained of blood. Have been since yesterday.

"I do?" I ask, trying not to give away the fact that I do, in fact, know.
"Lawd have mercy, you any whiter, and I could see plumb through ya." He says through that thick accent of his. How anyone is able to fully understand this man I don't think I'll grasp, but I'll try. I go to speak a response but Bo is already moving. He heads to the kitchen and gets a glass. I watch as he fills it with water, at which point he comes back to me and hands me the glass.

"Here ya go, now. Might be just what you're lookin' fer." He says, outstretching his arm to hand me the glass of water. I take it and begin drinking. Won't lie, it's quite refreshing, especially since I forgot to bring any with me today. It helps to clear my mind. Maybe I can finally put this "crow" business behind me. I hand the glass back to Bo, who takes note about how color is returning to my face.

"Well, I'll be. That's a sight better right cheer." He says, happy to know I'm feeling better.
"Yeah, I guess." I then respond, thankful for some somewhat quick thinking. But despite this, the uneasy feeling remains. Nothing specific, just a general feeling of... something. I can't tell what. Don't know if I want to find out. Doesn't help when Bo says one more thing before slipping back into his room.

"Take it easy now, ya hear? Not every bird sings a sweet song."

|-An unknown field of wheat-|

It smells like bread. Uncooked bread. Everywhere I look, that smell permeates the air. I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I don't know what time it is. The feeling of eyes is stronger than ever here. And the worst part? I can't tell where those eyes are. There's wheat everywhere. Stalks so tall that you get completely enveloped in them. Anything could be hiding here. It's that ancient, primeval fear those two-legged apes that would eventually become us felt as they walked through the African bush: There's a lion in this grass... And I don't know where it is. Every step I take needs to be made with extreme care. I then stand up, still dwarfed by the wheat. The stalks have to be... 6'7" at least. A good six inches taller than me. If anything is coming from above, it'll be hard to see. Even harder to hear. With how dense the field is, it's hard to get a tell on anything. If I could just get a good sight of the moon... I'll have some point of reference and can maybe get out of here and back to Wilmington. I look up and start searching. But I can't see it. Fuck... It's not cloudy, is it? It can't be. I can see stars. So the moon has to be out. Somewhere... So I keep looking. Searching. It can't be hard to find a big, white glowing disc in the night sky. But all I can see are little pin-points of light, and even then it's just a few. The rest are blocked out by all this fucking wheat. I swear, I'm gonna develop hay fever after this.

After a few more minutes of searching, I see it. That big white disc. But now I'm faced with a new problem: I don't know which direction I'm facing. It is in the middle of the sky, denoting midnight. And it doesn't look like it's moving. And that's when I hear something brush behind me. Something big. It sets my nerves on edge. So much that I start running. But I don't make progress. I move my legs yet I make no ground. I just don't move. Not a single inch. It's as if I'm running on ice. Like how it is when you try to run in a dream. And that only makes the nerves worse. Whatever is moving behind me can make ground, and it is getting closer. Too close. Too fast. If I don't break free from whatever is holding me soon, I'm a dead man. So I push, and I push, and I push but I still gain no ground. All while whatever is behind me keeps getting closer. I hear growling and thrashing, as if it's cutting down the wheat stalks as it goes. Anything... Come on... Keep pushing... Just one more... With some luck, I manage to start moving. Faster than I have ever moved in my life. I don't care about what's in front of me. I just care about putting distance between me and whatever it was coming behind me.

It feels like hours, yet the moon hasn't changed it's position in the sky. Not by an inch. And I am no closer to getting out of this wheat field. You'd think I'd find a house of some kind by now, home to some redneck looking dude who wouldn't be happy to see a "Yankee" like me on his property. But I haven't. Not a single sign of civilization anywhere. Not even abandoned farm equipment. I need to keep running. But I'm feeling exhausted. To the point of collapse if I'm not careful. I need a breather. But just like with keeping my momentum, there are problems with that idea. Namely, whatever was following me catching up. I need a plan. I don't hear the wheat being threshed. So I'm think I'm in the clear. I fall down flat on my ass, chest heaving as I catch my breath. This is risky. Too risky. I could be giving away my position with how loud I am and I'd be none the wiser. But still, I hear nothing except my own heavy breathing. Either this is a good sign... or it's a big red herring. If there is a predator here, it's being exceptionally quiet. Laying the perfect trap. Like what the velociraptor did to Muldoon in Jurassic Park. Movie, of course. That clever bitch. I finally feel the nerves calming down a bit as oxygen fills my lungs. In and out. In and out. Soon, my breathing slows as well, and I can start focusing on what's around me. Any out of place sound. Nothing.

...

I start to look around. Try to see what's here, but I just keep finding wheat stalks. As far as the eye can see. And there's so damn many that it's hard to get a good look through them.

...

I train my ears again. What that the wind? Or the howl of a wolf? Maybe the yelp of a coyote? I don't know. It's too far away and too faint.

...

I look around again. I thought I saw something blitz past in the wheat, but then again, they are all swaying. Could have been one falling down.

...

I listen again. Still nothing. But it's not calming. It's making me paranoid. And in a situation like this, you can't afford to be paranoid. Not on a level like this. I quickly stand, and start moving again. I'm not taking my chances here. Not here. I've caught enough breath. It's time to get moving again.

Time has no meaning here. Not with the moon perpetually at midnight. But something has changed: My surroundings. I'm not surrounded by wheat anymore. The stalks are still here, but they're not dominant. Stone pavers litter the ground and I see a dead forest in front of me with barren shrubs and wheat claiming the ground between the grey, desiccated wood. It doesn't do a lot to calm my nerves, but it's better than nothing I guess. I knew sleep deprivation could do weird things to the brain but good fucking lord, what the hell am I even hallucinating? Regardless, I press on, into that leafless forest, still weary and cautious. Just because the scenery is new doesn't mean it's safe. I look up and see no stars, only a golden moon an a forebodingly brown sky. I need to find a way out of here. As I go, the feeling of eyes doesn't leave. It hasn't left once. If anything, it's only gotten stronger. Especially here. And as if to prove my point, I hear... them. Crows.

caw
caw
caw

They're taunting me. I can hear it now. 'You'll never leave this place, stupid monkeigh.' In those little posh voices like the little Eldar scum they are. So infuriating. So god damn infuriat-

"You'll never leave this place."
"This place. This place."

It comes out of nowhere, but it's unmistakable: A human voice. No. Not human. I don't know what it is, but I know it wasn't human. I quickly turn around, trying to find where it came from... but see nothing except a murder of crows. I don't like this. I start backing away, slowly, not wanting those damn bird to leave my sight.

"Running is useless, Cameron."
"Useless. Useless."

Oh God... How the hell does it know my name? And why? This is a nightmare, it has to be. As I keep backing away, I see the wheat move violently. Something is crashing through. And then I see it. The golden "crow", with those little red eyes. Fear sets in. They say "fight or flight", but there's a third option. One that almost always gets you killed: Freeze. And that's what's happened to me now. I'm frozen out of fear. I need to run. Get away. But my legs aren't moving.

"There is nothing you can do. Can do. Accept your fate."

That ignites something in me. I bend down and grab a rock. This is a dumb idea, but it's something. I throw the rock as hard as I can towards the crows, hoping to hit one of them. The rock flies straight, and to my shock, I hit little Goldie. But it didn't like that. Because when that rock makes contact, the entire murder starts flying. Towards me. Goldie at the front. It happens so fast. There's no way out. I accept that this is where I die as I see those god damn red eyes get closer... and closer... and closer...

|-Tuesday morning, March 19th, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

I sit up with speed, breathing heavy. Eyes shooting awake like I just saw God and had every preconceived notion of my life actively challenged. I look around. It's dark, but I can see my surroundings: it's Bo's room. I'm on the air mattress. What the hell happened? Was it just a nightmare? I sure as shit hope so. I'm too tired to stand, so I lay back down. But after something like that, I'm not going back to sleep. Combination of not being tired in that way and... not wanting the dream to continue. So I just lay here. Eyes trained on the ceiling. My phone is right there. Probably not a good idea, but I got nothing better to do right now. I grab the little black box and immediately am greeted by the time: Half past three in the morning. The god damn "Witching Hour". It's then that I remember what Bo said when I came back from my run yesterday.

Not every bird sings a sweet song.

|-Tuesday morning, March 19th, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

Try not to think about it... Try not to think about it... It was just a dream, Total coincidence it woke me up at half-past three in the morning. Definitely not connected to anything. Nothing at all...

I keep telling myself those things, yet I know it's all bullshit. It always is. This gut feeling that won't go away. What the hell was that dream? Why was I in the middle of someone's farm? Or was it a farm? Everywhere I looked it was just wheat. And then... a barren forest? No, that... that can't be right. Why would it change to a forest? And that damn bird... Was it actually there or did I see something else? I don't know. I don't remember. I don't want to remember. Just in case I'm back there tonight. I sit up on the air mattress, wiping away what little sleep is in my eyes. It's almost eight, and I've been awake since 3:30. Couldn't get back to sleep. To riled up and... I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to see those little red dots in my peripheral. I slide off the mattress and start getting ready for the day. Brush my teeth, shower, shave, get dressed. I start making myself breakfast and while doing so, take not of how empty the apartment feels. I know Bo went out at seven to his job, I don't know what Reilly does and Maddy is a the university. I probably shouldn't worry about them, though. They're not dealing with... this shit.

I get my toast and put the bacon in between in. I start scrambling my eggs in the pan after getting the bacon grease out of it. While the eggs cook, I grab some coffee and put it into the machine, the beans getting ground up before hitting the filter. Before long, everything is done and I start eating. Maybe this can help me put that nightmare form my mind. I start scrolling through YouTube and find something that tickles my fancy. History of Roman architecture. Working in construction, I find this kind of thing interesting. Wish we could get back to the Roman's mentality. If we did that, buildings wouldn't be falling over every ten seconds. And they'd look good for once. You can still have functionality and utility with a good form.Balance is the name of the game here.

As much as I enjoyed this, the reprieve is is only temporary, as the thoughts come back after finishing my breakfast. The wheat stalks. The sedentary moon.The dead trees. The crows. Those red eyes. I just can't get them out of my head. It's like whatever that thing was is taunting me. Even while I'm asleep. What does it want? Why is it so focused on me? I'm the least interesting person in this apartment complex. Why target me? I need to get my mind off of this. There's a park south of here. Maybe that can help. Maybe... I rush back into Bo's room and grab my shoes, slap them on and then grab my hat with my car keys. Fresh air. That should help, right...

|-Later that day. Halyburton Park, 4099 S 17th Street-|

I park my car and step out. The early spring air is quite nice when paired with the salt of the Atlantic drifting in. The Cape Fear is right there as well. I walk over to the bay overlook and take in the vista. It's peaceful here, with the trees really starting to regrow their leaves and the flowers looking like their about to bloom. I stay here for a few minutes before moving again, starting down the Cross City Trail. Think I'll follow this for a few laps before changing to a different one. I walk down the trail for a few minutes, taking in how the trees cover the ground with shadow. I feel like I can forget about all my troubles here. It's nice. It's quiet. It's peaceful.

I continue down the Cross City Trail, not really thinking about anything, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Certainly isn't right now. I welcome the empty head. Allows for different and new thoughts to enter in. Things that don't fill me with existential dread and that I actually like. I pass by the park's playground, meaning I'm about to complete a lap. That would be one down, two more to go. I keep walking, the playground soon behind me as I continue on with lap two, taking in the NC spring coming to life around me. It's nice. Really nice. I think I'm starting to see why Maddy moved down here.

I'm about to reach the first turn of the trail when it hits me. This feeling of dread. One I've unfortunately grown familiar with over the past few days. I feel the eyes on me again, ending my brief respite of peace. God dammit. Where are they? Where are those stupid red eyes? I can feel them on me. I just need to see them. But I don't. I scan the trees and see nothing. Like I always do. I keep walking, hoping it was just a one off thing, but it doesn't go away. I still feel them. So I keep walking in the vain hope that it does eventually go away.

I come to a fork in the road, so to speak. The Green Trail. I start down it, hoping that this change of pace can throw off the eyes. Get rid of this dread I'm feeling. I can feel it start to alleviate, lift off my shoulders. But then, in an instant, it comes back. Back with a vengeance. And I hate it. I scan the trees again, and I think I see something in one of them. Little red dots looking down at me. But the second I do a double-take, they're gone. I think is see them again, but when I look, they've moved once more. I need to go. I don't want to waste anymore time here if it means I lose my mind.

|-Earlier that morning. Bluethenthal Wildflower Preserve, University of North Carolina Wilmington-|

The flowers look nice this morning. Good place to go when I want to clear my head. And this feather business definitely warrants this little trip. That damn feather keeps coming back to my mind. Just thinking about it creeps me out and I can't explain why. It shouldn't. It's probably just some kind of party decoration. Yet a part of my mind is convinced it isn't. It's not rational. Not in the slightest. So I sit here, in the wildflower preserve, smelling the flowers and taking in the cool, morning air. It's crisp and wet. Just how I like it. I check the time and see it's half past eight. I have that BIO class at 11:00 I need to TA for. Vertebrate history. Hopefully, my mind will be clear by then.

I start to walk down some of the paths, looking at each bud that will start blooming in April. Can't wait to see what they end up looking like. I know they'll be beautiful. I keep walking, noticing that the trees are regaining their leaves more and more. As a result, the preserve is getting more shade. That'll make it more bearable in the summer with the heat leaking out of the Atlantic. Maybe I should head over to Wrightsville Beach at some point this weekend. Bring everyone with me for some R&R. I know Cam could use some, with how jittery he's been. He's been acting weird since he arrived. I chalked it up to his nerves since he did say he hadn't had a good night's sleep when I asked him if he had crossed into NC. But he's had a few now... and something is still off. It's not like him. I just hope I can help him in some way.

I keep walking and check the time. 8:50. I've got two hours before I need to head to Friday Hall. I should probably grab something to eat soon. Don't want to be TAing on an empty stomach. So I start moving in that direction. It's not too far, just by the Cultural Arts Building. As I head that way, though, I see a glint in a bush. I don't know what it is, but it does interest me. I approach the bush and kneel down, and what I see is a snake skin. That's odd. I know snakes are common here but... like that feather, it doesn't look like any snake native to the area. Against my better judgement, I take the skin and put it in a zip-loc before going on my way. And just like that feather, this feels like something I shouldn't be seeing...

|-Tuesday afternoon, March 19th, 2024. Friday Hall, University of North Carolina Wilmington-|

I still have that skin on my mind. Hard to shake it, really. I tried to focus during the lecture. I like to think I succeeded. But I also think Dr. Priester noticed something was off. Just to throw off any suspicion I told her about the skin, and that I wanted to know what kind it belonged to, so she directed me to Dr. Williard. Someone who teaches herpetology should be able to help, right? That's the train of thought.

I walk up to the second floor, making my way to her office. Just a simple question. Nothing more. Inquisitive curiosity. I think she'll appreciate the thought. Her office is room 2069? Yeah, that sounds right. 2061. 2063. 2065. 2067. 2069. The right door. I slowly approach the door, knock on it three times, and within a few seconds, I hear someone's voice from within.

"It's unlocked. Come on in. Though, I wasn't really expecting any visitors today. The company is appreciated regardless." Is what I hear as I open the door, seeing Dr. Williard sat behind her computer. She then looks up and sees me, a confused expression partly covering her face.
"Oh, you... You're Madelyne Evans, right? Grad student studying ornithology? Very fascinating stuff, that is." She says, clearly interested in me as a person.
"Yes. That would be me. I actually have something I want to show you. Was wondering if you could help me with it. If you've got the time, of course." I say as I pull out the snake skin. Dr. Williard sees it and immediately takes an interest in it. She gestures for me to sit close to her while we inspect the skin.

"Where did you find this?" She asks, wanting to know more.
"In the wildflower preserve. Didn't know what else to do, so I came here with it." I respond, being as honest as I can be without being overtly suspicious. Williard doesn't seem to notice, though. Her focus is entirely on the skin as I hand it to her with utmost care. I don't want to damage it any more that it already has been.
"Hmm..." She focuses on the head, taking in the patterns of the scales and how they're positioned. "Head is large and quite distinct. Side are vertical, and nearly flat. Looking from above, I can't quite see the rostral scale. Immediately behind that there are two smaller scales. Meaning this is an adder. Most definitely an adder."
"You sound very confident." I say, noting how she is saying things with a more definitive tone. "Well, when you've looked at snakes and their sheds for a while, you tend to notice a few things." Is her response as she continues to examine the skin. "The eyes are relatively large for the animal. Looks to be the same size as it's nostrils. Below those are around eleven circumorbital scales. Then there's the dorsal scales. Nineteen... Twenty... Yup, twenty-one rows running down the length of the skin. Speaking of the length..." I watch as she splays the skin out on her desk. It hangs off the end when she has it all unfolded.

"Woah..." It comes out of my mouth without really thinking. But Williard does take notice.
"Woah indeed. This is much larger than the largest know individual ever recorded." Is her response. What does she mean by that?
"L... Larger?" I ask.
"Yes. I'm confident in saying that this belongs to a common European adder, Vipera berus berus, but this specific animal must've been over a meter and a half long when it shed this skin. The largest individuals that have been recorded so far were from Scandinavia, both at around 104 centimeters. But of course... there are problems with this..."
"This could easily be a prank?" I respond, cutting her off before she can finish.
"I wouldn't be surprised. Hoaxes along these lines have happened before, not just in herpetology, but in other disciplines. I'm sure you're familiar with the Piltdown Man. Arguably the most infamous hoax to hit anthropology."

We start talking about hoaxes and fabrications for what feels like an hour. Maybe even two, but I do need to leave at some point. I can't keep taking up Dr. Williard's time. So I stand up, thank her for her time and go about my business for the rest of the day. But that skin... it's sticking to my brain. Like that feather. There's just... something off about it. And I can't quite place why. But it's bugging me. And I don't like it. Not one bit. It doesn't help that I saw it glint in the light when Dr. Williard held it in the light. Gold... Just like the feather...

|-That same afternoon. Historic District-|

"Why are we here? And why did you kidnap me?" I ask, still unsure as to why Bo dragged me here with him.
"You still seem all riled up. Maybe this'll take the tuck outta ya." He says, though I'm not entirely sure I got all of it. It's gonna be... interesting trying to communicate with Bo. We walk through the historic downtown, on our way to... somewhere. Don't exactly know where he's taking me. Feels more like a hostage situation if I'm being honest. We keep walking and I see... a god damn ship across the river. Is it a cruiser? Destroyer?
"The fuck... Is that... a destroyer?" Bo does not seem to thrilled by my question.
"That right there's the ol' Battleship North Carolina. She done pulled her weight in World War Two, she did." He says in that rabid drawl of his. World War II... God damn.
"So she fought Nazis? Cool." I say, not really knowing anything about this situation. "Japanese. Never did set eyes on Europe." Bo responds, clearly displeased with my lack of historical knowledge. So I decide to stay quiet on the matter. We keep walking, the battleship looming on the western bank of the river, until we stop in front of a really weird building. The hell is this place? 'Museum of the Bizarre'? What kind of circus freak show spawned this? Is it funded by Ripley's estate?

"The hell..." I'm about to continue the though when Bo interrupts me.
"The Museum of the Bizarre. C'mon, let's mosey on in there 'fore they close 'er up." He starts walking towards the door, paying an entrance fee. Guess I have no choice but to follow.

It's exactly what I thought: A Ripley's rip-off. There's a two-headed cow. A dude's skull in a weird-ass cage. Another dude's skull with his hair still on it. That's fuckin' gross. But there's one exhibit, seemingly a special and temporary display, that catches my eye. 'The Strange Wishmaker'. What? Like Rumpelstiltskin? Yeah, I've heard of the little prick. What's so special about him? I get up to the display and what I'm seeing does not look like a gnome. Looks more like a little imp. I start to read the text that accompanies the display:
'No one really knows His name or where He comes from. A strange boy. Rumpelstiltskin. Or simply Him. All that is known is that He is prevalent in England and Germany and that He can grant one's deepest desire. This wish usually comes at a cost, a cost that no one is able to truly pin down. All that is known is that you must gather three gifts to present to Him at the behest of His marquises, the Crow and the Snake. With some luck and determination, He will accept the gifts and grant the seekers wish.'
Him? That's weird. And not in a good way. I don't like this. Looking at the little imp just... creeps me out. And the mention of a Crow... Yeah, that's bringing back some recent memories that I'd rather not remember. Then there's fucking Bo...
"Well, bless His heart, He's got a face only His mama could love." He says, half slurring his words like he was drunk.
"No shit... Looks creepy as fuck." I say, not wanting to keep looking at it.
"Now ain't that the kinda thing that'd give you the heebie-jeebies and stick with ya, sure 'nuff?" Okay... Bo knows more than he's letting on. Or does he? No. I'm reading too much into this. He's just messing with me. That's all it is. I continue to watch Bo in my peripheral as he kneels down and looks at the display more. He seems to be analyzing it. A bit... too much. I don't like this. "Well ain't that somethin', seein' this lil' ol' English fella mosey on over yonder?" He mumbles, mostly to himself, but not caring that I can hear him.
"Uh... I guess..." I respond out of instinct.
"I reckon what them presents could be? Heard tell there's three of 'em, ya reckon?" He asks, more-so to himself again. I'm not responding this time. That feels like a very bad idea.

Bo keeps staring at it. And it's getting creepy at this point. It's like it cast a spell over him. And he keeps mumbling to himself. I don't like this.
"Well, ain't that the damndest thing? What in the Sam Hill are you? And why do you look so blamed familiar, you little scamp?" I gotta snap him out of this. I approach and tap him on the shoulder, which seems to get his attention.
"Well, I swan... Is somethin' ailin' you? Do I have somethin' stuck to my face, or what?" He says, unfazed by what he's been doing for the past ten minutes.
"Other than you creeping the fuck out of everyone here with the fixation on that... thing? No. Nothing's wrong. Not in the slightest. I think we should go home now." I say bluntly, hoping he gets the message. And to my shock, he does.
"Well, I swan, sorry 'bout that, y'all. C'mon now, let's head on back." He says, immediately walking back towards the entrance of the place. I follow, but that imp, Him... Just what the hell were we looking at? And then there's what Bo said: Why do you seem so familiar? I don't like where this is going.

|-Tuesday evening, March 19th, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

Two days. That's all it's taken. Just. Two. Days. And I'm a paranoid wreck. Funny how that works. How you can be a mentally stable member of society one day and then the next your a complete mess. I always thought I would come out of life unscathed. Boy was I wrong...

cling
cling

The sounds of silverware hitting ceramic plates gets me out of my head. Right, dinner. What was it? Stroganoff? I look down, and sure enough, a plate of beef stroganoff. I get a forkful and bring it to my mouth, taking a bite of the food I have. It's not bad. Enough to take my mind off things, if briefly.
"You went to the Museum of the Bizarre? Why?" I hear Reilly ask, clearly not liking the place going off her tone of voice.
"Is that gonna be a fuss?" Bo responds, annoyed by her lack of respect for the place. Honestly, I'm with Reilly. Place creeped me out.
"What is it about that place? It's creepy and dumb." Reilly says, clearly hurting Bo's pride with the statement. But he doesn't respond. Not the way she wants him to.
"Cam was over yonder lookin' like he was fixin' to lose his ever-lovin' mind. Figured it'd do him a world of good. Gettin' out like that." Is what comes out of Bo's mouth. At least, I think that's what he says. Still trying to decipher this seemingly backwards manner of speech he uses. We continue to eat for a little bit until Maddy speaks up.
"Anyone up for desert?" I see Bo immediately turn his head.
"Y'all think we oughta whip this up ourselves, or just go grab it from somewheres?" Is his response.
I watch as Maddy starts pondering. Clearly she didn't think this idea through. And now she's been put on the spot.
"Uh... Let's head out and get it. Wanna come with?" She finally gets out. And Bo wastes no time. "Well now, ain't that a blessin'! Let's skedaddle on over to Crumbl and git us some cookies, ya hear?" He says as he gets up, heading for his room to grab his jacket. Within a few minutes, he and Maddy are gone, leaving me with Reilly, who then heads into her room. I then start pacing, not really doing much apart from thinking. And I don't like where my mind is going right now. That damn exhibit in the "museum". Him. That little Rumpelstiltskin lookin' fuck. And whatever this "crow" is, that damn golden bird that's now in my dreams, works for Him. What did the sign say? It's one of His "marquises"? The hell does that even mean? I take my phone out of my pocket and head to Wikipedia. Type in 'marquise'. Huh... European nobility. Why does that feel fitting for whatever this crow is? And would that make Him a duke?

...
...

Why am I thinking about this? This is all made-up bullshit. And yet-

"You alright?" I hear someone ask. I turn around and see Reilly.
"Uh... Yeah. I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I respond, not trying to sound suspicious.
"You're pacing. You look like you've been drained of color. You're mumbling to yourself." She starts listing off things she's noticed. Apparently Reilly's just been observing me this entire time. "Oh... I... I guess I've be-"
"Been what? Up in your head?" She interrupts me before I can continue. But she doesn't go any further, instead turning her head to one of the many screen prints on the wall. Specifically, the one of Neuschwanstein Castle. I approach her, wanting to know a bit more.

"That's Neuschwanstein in Bavaria, right?" I ask, prodding only a little.
"No. Heilige Castle. Took the picture while I was studying abroad in Linz." She says. Heilige Castle? I've never heard of it. How though? It certainly sounds important. Important enough to warrant being a heritage site in Austria, as Reilly goes on to say.
"It's been a cultural and heritage center ever since it was turned into a military history museum in the 1960s. Though... that's not why I was interested in going there."
"Then what did interest you?" I ask, not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
"It's haunted. Too many stories for it all to be coincidences. Even someone as rational and logically minded as me has to admit that." Reilly says, her voice solid. Do I even want to know? Who am I kidding? She's gonna say what it is anyway, regardless of what I do. Might as well rip this band-aid off.
"What kind of stories?" I ask, knowing where this will go. And oh boy, does Reilly sprint down that road.
"Demons and ghosts. Guests and security always seeing things. Cameras just stop working at certain hours and no one knows why. Security constantly showing that it's not a hoax to the management staff. I wanted to see it all for myself." She then reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone, at which point she starts showing me pictures she took while in the castle. It's... Well, I don't like where this is going. A lot of little red eyes in corners they shouldn't be in. The occasional glint of gold in some of the videos she shot. It's just... My mind is already fucked from the past few days.
"How long has the place been 'haunted'?" I ask, against my better judgement.
"Ever since Roman Per die Heilige married in the 1850s. Things for the family went downhill from there. Man died a drunkard and almost broke. His sister, Eleonore, had to do a lot of damage control." Reilly knows way more than she's letting on. I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. Probably a bad thing, going purely off the past three days. I gotta get some sleep. Not that it would help me all that much. But something is better than nothing, even if it's risky.

|-Wednesday morning, March 20th-|

Toss and turn.
Toss and turn.
Just stare at the popcorn ceiling above me before...
Toss and turn.
Toss and turn.

Still can't sleep. It's running. Fast. And I can't catch up. Even if my life depended on it, I wouldn't be able to match that pace. I really, really fucking hate insomnia. It's the worst thing to get hit with on a good day. But when you're exhausted and sick with dealing with the world's bullshit? It's infuriating. The sweet release of sleep, denied because the brain simply will not rest. I reach over and grab my phone to check the time: two thirty in the morning. I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours now. Can't be good. I sit up, grab my shoes and walk out of Bo's room, taking care to not wake him. I step out and head for the door. I need some fresh air.

I probably shouldn't be out on the streets in the early hours of the morning, but do I have a choice? So here I am, driving to a park. Greenfield seems like a good idea. I pull into the lot and park, stepping out of my car and taking in the early morning air. Still dark. Still... uneasy. Not exactly the most welcoming of atmospheres, but fuck it. I start walking, phone used as a flashlight just in case anyone is out here with me. Don't want to get jumped. But as I walk, I see them. Those god damn eyes. At this point, i need to accept that they're there. It's just a fixture of my life now. Better get used to it. So I ignore them and just keep walking. I go past another parking lot and keep going. I eventually come to a fishing dock, and linger for a bit. It's not bad here. But I keep moving. I don't want to stay in the same place for too long. Not with those eyes still on me. I'm not taking anymore risks than I already have so far.

I keep walking, eventually coming to a boathouse. I go down the dock and just stand at the end, looking out across Greenfield Lake. At least, what I can see from here through the dark. I take my phone out just to check the time, and see that it reads 3:30. Great. That stupid 'Witching Hour' again. I wonder what kind of bullshit will happen this time. As I think about it, I spot the eyes again. On the opposite bank in the trees. They're taunting me again. So I start running. Running to find that damn "bird" and ring it's little neck. I'm booking it down the trail, dippin' into the bushes when I get to the other side of the crick and start lookin'. Where's the little jagoff? Where is he?! I start bashin' some of the bushes to flush the bum out, and I hear somethin' that's wicked familiar...

"You'll never find me."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's yappin' again. Why's it yappin'? And why's it talkin' so proper? It's tryin' to get my goat. And goddammit, it's workin'. Just gotta figure out where the voice is comin' from.
"I'm right here. No. I'm over here. Over here. Wait, in the opposite direction."
It's movin', constant. I can't get a read on where it IS. One second, I'm thinkin' it's to my right. Then I hear some rustlin' behind me, only for it to be back on the right again. This little, golden jagoff thinks he's being funny. I manage to get a glimpse of it with my cell's flashlight, the golden feathers and red eyes shinin' like a freakin' spotlight. I go to grab it, but flies off, makin' fun of me as it leaves.
"You'll need to be quicker than that, Cameron." I'm gettin' real fuckin' bugged by this damn thing.

Just.
Stay.
STILL!

I see it again an' go to jump for it. It flies off. I'm lookin' all over, find it, then bam, I eat tree. Now I got a nose bleed. Aw, this is jawn is fuckin' fantastic. All the while, that jagoff "bird" is crackin' up at me.
"Try again, Cameron. You can catch me." I hear it say.
"When I get my mits on you, you little golden jagoff..." I get my lamp on it again and go to snatch it, and I think I finally got it. I feel somethin' heavy in my hands, then a whole bunch of cawin'. I look down at my mits and see just a regular crow. Aw, jeez! Just when I thought I collared that little dirtbag. With a sigh, I let the bird go, ain't tryna get it mixed up in none of this nonsense. I get up and start walkin' away. I just hope nobody saw or heard none of this. That would... not be a good look.

I make it back to my car and start driving back to Maddy's apartment, taking every stopped opportunity I can to clean my face of blood. I'm not gonna give anyone any concerns about what I was up to. Just play it off as a nasty fall. Perfectly plausible. No one would think it suspicious. Not one bit. Within a few minutes I'm back, but I don't exit my car immediately. I just... I need a few minutes. I need to process this. All of it. That damn "bird"... Constantly out of reach and taunting me... I swear, I will pluck that little fucker bare. Not a single golden feather is gonna be left when I'm done with it. But for now... I feel my eyes drooping. Oh great, I'm gonna fall asleep in my car. How fun. Maddy's gonna come out in a few hours and see me like this. But at this point, I can't really stop it. My eyelids start closing, and I resist, but that resistance grows thinner by the second. My head starts nodding, getting lower and lower with each passing moment. I can't fight it. Sleep is too powerful to resist. Eventually, my eyes shut, and I fall asleep. Let's hope there aren't any nightmares this time.

|-Wednesday Morning, March 20th, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

I'm woken up by the sound of someone tapping on my window. Through groggy eyes and I start looking and eventually see Maddy outside my car. She looks worried. I start lowering my window, and her questions begin.
"Cam, are... Are you okay?" She asks, her voice almost trembling. "Yeah, I'm fine." I respond, knowing it won't convince her.
"If you're fine, why did I find you passed out in your car?" Is the next question I hear her ask. "Couldn't sleep last night. Went out driving for a bit." I say, still knowing it won't be enough to convince her.
"And so you decided to just... sleep in your car when you got back?" She's interrogating me now. "Sleep finally caught me." I say as I get the strength out finally get out of my car. I push the door open and step out into the morning light, the sheer brightness almost blinding me to the point I need to cover my eyes briefly. Hate that shit.
"What time is it, anyhow?" I ask, still unsure of the hour. I watch Maddy get her phone out and check.
"Seven twenty five. When did you get back?" She then asks, still interrogating me. "I don't know. Like, four o'clock." I don't need to wait for Maddy's response to that. "Oh. My. God. Go inside, take a shower and then a nap."

A nice, hot shower. Just what I needed. I get clean. I get warm. All the tension from the night being washed away. I already feel better. Don't know how long I've been in here, but that heater is working overtime to keep this water warm. The steam continues to rise as I get the bar of soap I brought with me so that I can lather up. All the grime and sweat, gone in an instant. Next is shampoo and conditioner. Slap that on my head. Scratch my scalp like I've got a rash. Boom, down the drain a minute later. Next thing I know, I'm drying off and putting on some clean clothes. Now, I'm laying on the couch, and I feel sleep clawing at me again. That beast you can't resist for too long. But I try. And I succeed. At least for a bit. But I start flubbing. Overreaching. And that's when it strikes. It's so sudden. So fast. I didn't even see it coming.

...
...
...
...
...

I wake a few hours later, unsure of the time, groggy and dehydrated. I need some water. So I get up and head to the kitchen. I grab a glass and fill it up. Then I drink. It's cool and refreshing. Just what I needed to hit the spot. Already my throat feels better. I head back into the living room and grab my phone, mostly to check the time. 10:30. Damn. Out for three hours. Not bad for a nap. I sit down, not really wanting to lie back down but still relax. Thinking about it, this is the most relaxed I've felt since I got here. Haven't thought about that damn "bird" in a hot minute. That is, until I bring that up. And just like that, I'm thinking about it now. The little golden bastard. Fuck. There goes my peace. It was nice while it lasted. But beggars can't be choosers, I suppose. So I decide to do some research. Look into this Him and how this "bird" is connected to Him. But almost immediately, I run into a roadblock: Where the hell do I even start with something like this? How do I search up "Him" and get the results that I want? What did the exhibit compare Him to? Rumpelstiltskin? That seems like a good place to start. Little imp from Europe that takes people's first born children in exchange for the... services he provides. Kinda fucked, honestly. But there's nothing here that's tangible. All I can put together is that they're both small and help people. That's it. Not much to go on. So I decide to dig into that "bird". I search for 'folk tales involving a golden crow'... and actually get some results. It's not much, but it's better than nothing so I'll take it.

I'm sat down at Maddy's desk, using the currently empty space since she took her laptop with her, giving me room to place mine there either until she gets back or when I jot down everything I need to. Never thought I'd ever be browsing occult forums or archives, but here we are. I continue reading a few more websites and jot down more notes as I go, four things in particular:

- Whatever this "crow" ends up being, it does, in fact, serve Him, whoever He may be. That special exhibit in the museum didn't really say that much about Him, only that He has two servants, grants wishes at both a price combined with three gifts and originates in Europe.
- The crow can take the form of a large, golden crow with bright red eyes. It does specify crow. It will never appear as a raven. Only a crow. But it also has a more humanoid form. I hope I don't ever have to deal with that.
- The crow uses magic to manipulate people for it's own end or for Him. This magic causes both auditory and visual hallucinations. These hallucinations can even affect one's dreams. I don't like where that thread is going.
- The crow has it's own domain. Something called the 'Ceramic Grove of Wheat'. The crow's magic can also lead people to this grove. That's... That's not where I was in that dream, is it?

This is a lot to take in. Way too much if I'm being honest and I don't really know what to do with this information. How do I even begin to process this? Maybe I can start to formulate plans to defend myself from this thing. Maybe even fight back if I need to. But regardless, one thing is for certain: This shit goes deeper than I thought.

|-That afternoon. Fisher Student Center, University of North Carolina Wilmington-|

I always end up eating lunch late on Wednesday. That advanced marine biology class goes to 12:30, so I get pretty hungry when I come out of it. Fisher's got a few places I can grab some food. Might try Hawk's Nest. Been meaning to for a while. Heard the wings aren't all that bad. I reach my destination and order my food. It comes out pretty quick and with that, I'm satisfied. I eat at a pace, wanting to enjoy myself while I browse a few things on my laptop:
Research notes.
Class notes.
Research topics.
But there's one thing not in this note file that keeps nagging at my mind: That feather. I can't quite seem to purge it from my brain. And it's getting frustrating at this point. First all those crow feathers start appearing around Dobo Hall, then I find that. Finding it seems to have slowed the rest of the feathers, only finding them occasionally, but...

I've looked the feather over time and time again. Double checked. Triple checked. Even quintuple checked. It matches what I'd expect from a carrion crow, just bigger. And the color... It had to have been cast, right? It can't just be like that. No way. Yet when I run my finger along the side of the feather, it feels like a feather. If it was metal filament or metal plated, I would have felt it. It's too flexible. And too light. The feather looks like it's made of solid gold. Something like that would have a noticeable difference in weight. Yet it doesn't. It weighs more or less the same as the other feathers I've been finding. Then there's that snake skin. Common European adder, but larger than the largest known individuals. And in that skin I saw the same golden gleam that the feather has. It's draining how much of my mind this takes up. So against my better judgement, I turn to the internet to try and get some answers, knowing where it could lead me. I don't like it, but if it helps me sleep at night.

I search for 'golden carrion crow feather' and find nothing at first. So I go through a few of the search pages and find something interesting. 'Odd European Folklore' is the name of the article. Seems like a good place to start. I start taking some notes, wanting to keep track of the things I'm reading. The article details several different beings from Central Europe, namely Rumpelstiltskin and one other. The article doesn't give him a name, not a proper one at least. The Strange Boy. The Wishmaker. Him. Why is that in bold and italics? What makes Him so special? And who is He? I'll need to look into this some more. I open a new tab and start my search. Surprisingly, I get a few articles and websites about Him. But of course, they're linked to the occult. As someone

studying science, I hope I don't need to clarify why I'm opposed to this. But I also do need the information. I start reading the articles and take in the information:

 -He can grant one's deepest desire, but at a price. But what exactly is that price? None of the articles and exposés give that part.
 - In His court, there are two servants. A Crow and a Snake. Why does that fill me with dread?
 - No one exactly knows where His court is, but there are ways to be granted entry. Three specific gifts are to be prepared and showcased, at which point He will grant the person's wish. But again, no mention of what it will cost you.

I lean back, wanting to take a few breathers before I go on. I'm not occult-minded. It runs antithetical to everything I know as a woman of logic and science. But I will admit, the stories are fascinating. But they're also just that: Stories. No way they can be real. But my mind keeps going back to that feather. How the gold coloration shined in the light at just the right angles. It's... Tempting to find out more. So once again, against my better judgement, I dive back in. This "Crow". I need to know more. And I find a few things.

 - The Crow has it's own domain called the 'Ceramic Grove of Wheat'. No mention of where this grove is or where you can find it.
 - The Crow has it's own magic that it uses to manipulate people through auditory and visual hallucinations. This magic can also bring people to the grove. That's... ominous.
 - The Crow is a servant on Him. One of His marquises, alongside the Snake.

I'll need to look into these a bit more. My brain is getting wracked by all this information. I pack up my things and start to head out, but now I'm thinking again. About Cam. He's been acting weird ever since he arrived. He's been on edge. Any slight movement gets his attention. And certain topics can make him anxious. I remember how he froze when I mentioned finding those feathers everywhere. I don't want to be doing this, but maybe... Maybe Cam had an encounter with this "crow". And he's trying to work past how it affected him. Why else would he be showing signs of narcolepsy? Why else would he have trouble sleeping at night? Why else would he go out on a "drive" at three in the morning? But then again, he's had a pretty stressful few weeks before he left Philadelphia. Maybe it's still getting to him. But what can I do to help him? Cam's always been quite reserved. Never one to really talk about his problems. Always taking things on his own. 'I'm more than capable' is what he'd always say. I just need to get him to open up more. But then the feather re-enters my mind. What if... No. Don't be stupid, Maddy. It's nothing. This is nothing. There is nothing that can't be explained by logic.

|-Wednesday evening, March 20th, 2024. Brunswick Nature Park, 2575 River Road South-East, Winnabow, North Carolina-|

I'm still stunned that the hardware store had these. A focused UV torch and the single most powerful flashlight that is stocked on store shelves. All I need to do now is wait. Wait for the evening. And wait for it. So to kill time, I scout out the area. As far as nature preserves are concerned, this place is small. But with how many trees are here, and the fact that the leaves are almost all back, it gives any small animal, including birds, the perfect place to hide. But the bird I'm hunting is easy to spot. Those beady little red eyes and it's golden feathers will be a dead giveaway. Now, if I can get the light straight into it's eyes...

I keep walking around the park, jotting down the location of every point that might be of interest. Any space that might provide cover and shelter for something that doesn't want to be seen. And that damn bird is going to cower before me. I want to see the fear in it's eyes. Feel the abject terror and dread I instill in it as I wrap my fingers around it's neck. Take pleasure in the sounds of it's death throes. But I need to make sure that I actually catch the little bastard first. That will be the hardest part. Hence the flashlight. The logic is that if I shine the light directly into it's eyes, it will blind and disorient the crow, at which point I can close the distance and get my hands on it. That's the theory. I know it wouldn't be pleasant for a human being. But a crow? Or any other kind of bird? I don't actually know. Guess I should've asked Maddy.

...
...
...

Actually, no. That would've been stupid. How the hell would I explain why I want to know that information? 'Oh hey, there's this weird golden crow that's been harassing me for the past three days and I was wondering if I could blind it with a strong enough flashlight.' Can't imagine that she wouldn't look at me funny. So here I am, wandering a nature preserve at dusk. Most likely losing my mind over something that probably wasn't even real. And yet... it feels real. Tangible. Like I can grab it.

I continue my scouting, committing every little thing I see to memory. I'm gonna need it. And given I work in construction, a good memory is a necessity. It's saved me a lot on the fly. But this? This is a real test for it. Especially later tonight. When it's dark. Pitch black even. So much that I can only see what's in front of me with this flashlight. Just shine it in front of me, and take note of anything I see. And if I see rustling, bust out the UV. Some birds can glow under UV light. But not crows. So if that black light hits something with wings and it doesn't glow blue, then I've found my target. That's when I'll hit it with the torch. It should be bright enough to completely blind it for a few seconds, giving me enough time rush in.

A few more passes, just to make sure my bases are covered. I pull out my phone and get that cartography app up. I take note of where everything is. Right now, I'm near the two big fallen logs. Good spot in case things go south and I need to hide for whatever reason. About three hundred feet directly in front of me is a small swampy portion. I'll have to be careful there. One wrong step and it'll ruin my night. Can't have that. Of course, the road is close to a thousand feet to my left. From there, my car is just down it. If I need to, I can sprint down it. Hopefully that'll put some distance between me and this crow if shit hits the fan. Or if I fuck up royally. That's also a very distinct possibility. I head over to another point of interest: A pile of rocks. I can't explain it, but there's something about this that feels... off. Obviously, someone had come here before and made it. That's not what feels off. It's just... I feel like my sanity is being drained the more I look at it. Like when I first saw that damn crow on my car back in Virginia. It's like the pile is meant to be here. That it's a part of something bigger. It's probably my mind messing with me. Twilight has that effect on people and believe me, we're getting through twilight. The bits of sky I can see are this insane mix of blue, purple and pink. I'd say it was beautiful if I wasn't here to try and fight some quasi-eldritch bird.

Night. It's dark enough to start being night. Stars are in the sky, covered by the occasional cloud and I am ready to pounce whenever I see that damn bird. It's not getting away from me. Not this time. I'll sure as shit make good on that. I walk through the the preserve, black-light shining on whatever I point it at. I'm actively avoiding the flashlight. I don't want to telegraph where I am. Not just to that crow, but also to anyone else that may also be wandering the preserve this late. It has to be past ten at this point. I shouldn't be out here. No one should be out here. The last thing I need to have happen is someone coming across me. Least of all a cop or a state trooper. I'd probably get arrested for trespassing if a cop saw me here. I walk around for a bit longer, seeing the occasional scorpion glow in the black light. Looks like a Hentz. Don't think those are native to NC.

I stop walking, wanting to listen for a bit. I don't hear anything out of the ordinary at first. Just the wind blowing through the leaves above me. It stays like that for a few minutes. Just the wind and nothing else until something shifts behind me. A rustle in a nearby bush. I get the UV on where I think I heard it, and don't see anything. Nothing that warrants the torch. But then something catches my ear. A very specific sound: Cawing. And so, the hunt begins...

|-Witching Hour. Thursday morning, March 21st, 2024-|

What a fool Cameron is. He thinks he can catch me. But nobody catches Murim. Not even Aziel. So here I sit and wait. Wait for the fool to walk by. Where I can taunt him. Taunt him and drain his sanity. One's sanity is the most delectable of treats. Seldom do I get the chance to feast on it. So I revel in the opportunity whenever it presents itself. And this looks to be one particularly pleasant treat. One I will savor for quite some time, indeed. All I need do is break down his mind. Utterly destroy his spirit so that his inquiries cease and his hunt ends prematurely.

He wanders and wanders and wanders. Oblivious to my presence, little torch in hand scanning the treeline. Searching and searching for a little bird. A little bird that is much more than just a bird. This fool knows not what he is walking into or towards. I could easily have my murder gore him. Rip out his tongue and pluck out his eyes. But I want more than simple death. I want to taste his fear. So I will continue to toy with little Cameron. Toy with him until I break him. He wanders more and more, trying to find me. But he won't. He will never find me. If he sees me, it's because I want him to see me. At my own discretion. So I sit and perch on a branch of pine, watching my prey continue his hunt in vain. Watching him suffer and drain is such a treat. I move to keep watch on him, always seeing where he is going. And he still does not see me. Perhaps I should reveal myself, and cause terror. Cause terror and fear... Yes... I should...

I prepare to fly. I take sight of my prey and judge the distance. Then... I jump. Away from the branch and into the darkened night sky, the sounds of my wings causing alarm below me.
"Ah shit... That's wicked high up." I hear from the forest floor. The light turns, and it is pink? Pink? Why pink? Is he trying to confuse my murder? Present himself as a potential mate? No matter. I does nothing to me. But something is off. Something I cannot tell. And then light hits my eyes. So bright that I cannot see. It is overwhelming. Like ten thousand suns burning against my retinas. It disorients me to the point that I cannot fly properly or safely. It seems my prey has come prepared...

I barrel into a tree, my small avian body hitting the bark with a resonant thud. I then fall to the ground, still disoriented. Still stunned. I must get away and reconsider my options. But I hear my prey closing in. Closing in and closing fast.
"Cain't get outta this one, ya little fuckin' jagoff!" He shouts, charging towards me with the bright light of ten thousand suns. I must take stock of my circumstances and retreat into the shadows before I am caught. I get onto my feet and waddle into a nearby bush, hiding from the human fool. I sit and wait for him to pass before I can fly, but Cameron... He is persistent. He scours the underbrush in his search for me. Overturning logs. Snapping branches. He is relentless. Perhaps... he could make a good proxy for my Master. I watch as the fool breathes in and moves on to the next area, allowing me reprieve to fly and reconsider my plans. How can I extract what I want from him?

I fly up to a branch that is high. High and out of sight. Here I can formulate a new plan. I must formulate a new plan. A new plan to extract what it is I crave. But how? How can I do so without injury? Perhaps I can lead him into my grove... My grove... Yes... I move from branch to branch, taking note of where the fool below me is going. He does not know of the things to come. I gather a few of my murder around me, intent on putting my plan into motion. Within seconds, the foreign corvids have come to heed my call.

"Master! Master!" They shout in unison, hoarse voices carrying on the wind and into my ears.
"Yes, yes. Calm. I have plans for the fool below us." I start, silencing the cacophony.
"To the grove. We will take him to the grove. There, we will break his spirit and turn him into a proxy for the Master. But he must be distracted before I can place the hex upon him." The murder stays silent, taking in the information before they speak up.
"A proxy for the Master! A proxy for the Master!" They immediately set off, searching for my prey. Already, I can hear his frustration. His fear...
"Aww, for fuck's sake! Ya jagoff crows!" He shouts into the night, torch sending it's bright cone of light into each darkened crevice. "Where's da golden jawn at?! Where?!" I can tell from his tone he has one of my murder in his hands. The crows of this land are foreign to me, but I will bend them to my will all the same. I finally come upon my prey, taking in his enraged state with delight as I perch on a branch behind him. And it is now that I announce my presence.

"Such a fool you are, Cameron." He turns with a start, torch blaring in my eyes, but my magic can lessen the blow. The light becomes dimmer and dimmer as I deaden the battery within, until I can see the man's face.
"Da fuck... Da fuck youse want from me?" He shouts as he lunges forward, but I am quicker. He crashes into a log with a thud before getting back to his feet.
"What I want is to taste you." I proclaim as I rear up. As soon as Cameron turns around, I charge him, grazing his head and placing my hex upon him.
"GAH??!?!!? DA FUCK YOU JUST DO TO ME?!" I hear as the light falls from his hand, arm coming up to his head to cover his left eye. Oh how I have missed this. I perch above him in the pines, murder surrounding both of us as I do so. We watch as he checks himself for injury, taking his hand off his eye and bringing it into the light. But he sees no blood. He then starts to search around him.

"Yous a dumb, lil', gold JAGOFF! I swear on me mudda, when I get my paws on ya..." The sweet scent of Cameron's anger is so enticing. I almost feel compelled to leave it here. But I crave more... "To the grove! To the grove!" The murder starts, sending a visible chill down his spine. But before he can speak again...
"If you wish for this to end, then you will follow me to my ceramic grove, Cameron. I will be awaiting you there." I then fly close to his head, after which I hear him chasing after me. Soon, I will feast on whatever fear I can extract before bending the fool to His will, as I have done to so many others like Cameron.

|-An Encapsulating Woodland-|

Aww, c'mon... Where's the jagoff? Better question: Where the hell am I at? I feel like I've been running for hours but not getting anywhere. I'm starting to think that this is all a dream. That I'm actually asleep, passed out in one of those two big logs the second the sun went down. I just need to wake up, and this all over. I didn't see the little golden jagoff. And it definitely didn't buzz me. I'm gonna wake up in a log, go back to Maddy's apartment, and forget that any of this happened. It was only a dream. A bad dream. But still a dream. So I should just... stop running... Turn back and head home.

But that's not what happens.
I don't stop.
I don't stop running at all. And it's for one simple reason:
I gotta whack dis fuckin' murderbird.

So I keep runnin'. I gotta catch up. Gotta choke it out like it's a chicken. Then, I can have my peace of mind back. But for as much as I run and run and run... I don't get any closer. I need to stop. Take a breather. I keep running like this and I'll drop from exhaustion. And that'd be the real tragedy. So I slow my pace to a crawl, resting my arm on a nearby tree. I slump, head between my knees, breaths deep and low so I can get enough oxygen. Then I just... stay there for a bit. I know the general direction the crow is going. North. At least I think it's north. I pull out my phone to check the compass, only to remember that the battery died a while ago. So that's going to be no use. I'd check the sky, but the canopy above is so thick with leaves and branches that I can barely see anything past the treetops. I need to get moving. If anything, than to just get a better grasp of where I am. I know for a fact that I'm not in the preserve anymore. No fuckin' way I could be. But I still need to know where I am. That should give me better context, being able to see potential landmarks and points of interest. But every direction I look, it's the same: A long stretching forest with no clear end in sight. I don't want to admit it, mostly so I don't start panicking, but I may actually be lost out here. A dead phone. No idea of where I am. If something happened, Maddy wouldn't find out. All she'd know is that I went out one evening, and never came back. So maybe... I should just give up. Leave this damn bird alone and head back. But where do I even start?

Against my better judgement, I start heading south. At least I think where south is. But something in my gut is telling me that this is a mistake. That I'm walking right into an early grave. I can already see the headlines when some poor schmuck eventually and inevitably finds my dead body on a hike of their own:
'Lost hiker found after three week search. Identified as Cameron Albridge, twenty-three years old. Born August 9th, 2000 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.'
Now I'm left imagining what Maddy would be going through if... when that happens. Losing someone she viewed as a brother in what has got to be the dumbest way possible. God dammit, Cam... How couldja be such a dufus? I shoulda knew better than ta do dis. Shoulda listened ta my feels. Listened ta what Bo said a cupla days ago:

Not every bird sings a sweet song.

I been walkin' fer hours, and these woods ain't got no fuckin' end in sight. I'm gettin' real bent outta shape, I am. Maybe just a couple hundred more feet... Oh. Ah, jawn. Guess it's my lucky night. Looks like this damn forest is finally starting to thin out. Ahead I think I see the tree line getting more sparse, giving way to shrubs and grass. But as I inch closer and closer, it's... Not what I thought it was. These woods are thinning. That much I know. But I'm not liking what I'm looking at beyond the trees. But for whatever reason, I can't stop walking. With every step, the dread increases. I need to turn around and run, but I can't. It's like my legs are moving on their own.
Closer... and closer... and closer to the edge of the forest...

I walk past the treeline, and a pit forms in my stomach as I process what I see: An impossibly large, massive and gargantuan field of wheat. Larger than what a farm should normally be. How the heck did this jawn even get here? Some bozo WOULD'VE said somethin' 'bout this. And yet... here it stands. Hidden by this likewise impossibly large and expansive forest that stretches for miles into the horizon behind me. I don't like the way dis looks. I don't like how familiar dis feels. Feels like I been here before. But when? An' how? I don't remember being in a place like this ever. In my life. Unless, of course... No. No. Absolutely not. That's stupid. Incredibly stupid and illogical.
There's no possible way I... that I have been here before in a dream. Just... No. That's so stupid. It's just a coincidence. But the crows that start cawing behind me are saying something else.

"Run, Cameron! Run, Cameron!" I hear rumbling from the forest behind me, followed by a demonic bellow that sounds like a horse. I don't want to be out here when that things gets to me, so I start running again. Towards the field. Into the wheat. I sprint down the hill overlooking the farm, trying not to trip and fall all the way down. I can't risk injury. Not now. Not when whatever made that sound is getting closer. I reach the bottom without a scratch and keep going, the stalks towering above the horizon like a field of lignin and fiber. But as I reach the edge, I stupidly turn back, to look at whatever was behind me. At the top of the hill is this... thing. Looks like a giant horse skeleton that's been fused with a cart. And then it sees me. Somehow. And that bellowing roar comes out, followed by the thing rushing down the hill and towards me with murderous intent. The kind I absolutely fuckin' hate. Ain't but one t'ing I can do now. One single move that'll either save my ass or get it capped: Run into the stalks. So I turn around... and don't look back.

|-The Ceramic Grove of Wheat-|

I don't know how long I've been running, but I need to stop again. I'm spent. Completely out of energy. I need to rest. Sit. Lay down. Anything. I just hope whatever that horse-lookin' jawn was ain't followin' me. It looked massive and I don't have anything to kill it with. Not that I'd ever run that risk. Sometimes, flight is the better option. And I'm making sure that I make it out of here alive. So here I am, surrounded by wheat stalks that would dwarf Shaq. What kinda whick did I get on to deserve this jawn?

When I've caught my breath, I start walking. A random direction that I think will get me somewhere. But my gut is saying something different. It's saying a lot of things, actually:

'We need to get out of here.'
'Find shelter and hide.'
'This is just a weird dream.'
But most concerning of all...
'We've been here before.'

And I won't deny, this place feels too familiar. But why? Why is it like that? I need to know. So I keep walking. I have to find out. And if that information can help me get rid of this damn crow, than it'll be even better. I just need to keep moving forward. Forward to what I hope is the center of this field. Where a farmhouse has to be. Maybe there's a weapon there. A knife or a shotgun. Hell, I'll even take a rubber mallet. I'm strong enough to do some damage with that. Just keep moving. Keep. Moving. Forward.

It feels like hours have passed again and I'm no closer to any kind of structure. Nothing that will provide shelter and safety. But despite this, the moon hasn't changed position once. It's staying in place, full and undaunted. It's givin' me the jimmies, somethin' awful. I don't dig it. And the sky... it's dis weird golden brown color. Ain't natural, not even a liddle bit. No clouds in sight. No stars blinking up above. Nothing except for the full moon looming in the sky and this weird haze surrounding it. Like a fog that just won't dissipate. And it smells disgusting. Like moldy bread mixed with piss. It's nauseating. But still, I press on, not knowing where exactly I'm going. But it feels like I'm making progress, even if it's negligible.

What feels like ten minutes later, I find a small clearing in the wheat. I can't quite tell. Again, phone is dead. Can't check the time. But this is a good sign. At least, I think it is. I can get a better look at the sky and it's just the moon, still in the same spot that it was in when I first got here. That's.. Ominous. I take stock of what else is here in this crop circle, but I'm quickly realizing that is a dumb idea because I see nothing of note. No points of interest. No landmarks. Just bare ground surrounded by eight-foot tall stalks of wheat in every direction. But I know my answers are within this field, despite how much I hate the idea of exploring this place. So, against my better judgment once again, I head back into the stalks, moving forward with the vain hope that I find something that can help. Whatever help it may be.

Anudda "hour" goes by an' I'm still surrounded by all dis fuckin' wheat. No end in sight, just them duhls of grain as far as ya can see. I ain't a goner. Just buggin' and ready to fight. If this 'crah' is behind dis, and it was tryna get me dreadin' everythin' here, da plan backfired. Da bum just ragebaited me. And, HUMPH, when I get my paws on it...

thud

I trip over something. Something hard. Hard and sturdy enough to catch my foot and make me tumble. Never thought I'd be happy to be in a position like that, but here we are. I quickly get back on my feet and look for whatever I tripped on, and it doesn't take long to see. And that hope I was feeling is now replaced by dread and disgust: I stare down at the ground, looking at what seems to be a corpse. Jawn's been layin' 'ere for a bit, but not long enough to be all rotted. Still got a lotta meat, skin, and stuff on 'em. Maybe two months? I ain't good at tellin' how old somethin' is when it's decayin'. Ain't no pathologist or nothin'. But still, I feel bad for the fucker. Maybe I can get out of here. Do what they couldn't. Maybe that can give them some peace. I then kneel down, trying to see if there's anything on the body that might help identify who they were before they ended up here. I go through those rotten and torn clothes, what's left of them at least, and feel something in a pocket. I pull it out and it's a wallet. A wallet means that an ID is in there. So I open it up and start checking until I find something that can be used as identification: Their state ID.

"Name: Lang, Robert Johnston... Date of birth: August 15th, 1951... Home address: 215 5th Street North-East, Valley City, North Dakota... Sex: male... Height: six feet, five inches... Eyes: blue... Hair: dirty blonde..." I take a deep breath before I slip the ID back into the wallet, put the wallet into my own pocket and look back at the corpse on the ground. "Yer wicked far from yer house, Rob. I'll make sure this goes to someone yuh cared 'bout. Gives 'em some closure." I then turn around and start walking off when I hear something from behind me.
"Th...thank...y.you..."
I spin around, looking back down at Robert's corpse. Did... Did dat jawn just talk? No. No fuckin' way. I'm... I'm trippin' balls. Dat was just the wind. It... It HADDA be. Ain't no way Rob's dead body just... yapped at me... But den I hear it again.
"Y.ou...N.n..neeeeed.to...rrruuuuuuun..." It's def comin' from his stiff. Sounds real hoarse, like he got somethin' in his throat. No doubt 'cause his chords done rotted out. I gotta listen too. If a dead guy's tellin' yous to book it: Yous better fuckin' run. So I do. But before I can turn around, I catch in my peripheral vision something drag Rob's corpse into the wheat. With lightning speed. One second it's there, the next, just a skid mark from his body being dragged. Then I hear bellows and hoarse grunts, followed by the sound of flesh and bone being torn apart. And that's when I start running.

All around me, I hear things rustling in the wheat. Getting closer and closer, except I'm faster than them. But I don't know for how much longer. I don't know how long I can keep this up. I'm getting exhausted. My legs are on fire from all this sprinting. I need to rest but I know if I do I'm a dead motherfucker. I just need to find somewhere safe. So I keep running, pushing my body to it's limits. Until either I can't run any longer... or until I run into something. And this field... It just put something in my way. I slam into whatever it was and fall back hard onto my ass. I don't have time to look when I feel something grab at me. Clawing like it's trying to tear me apart. I finally get a good look and it's like somethin' ripped right outta The Walkin' Dead. This rotted-out shambler tryin' to bust my head open and eat my brains. I gotta think quick. Find somethin' to get this jag off me. I get one hand on its head, tryna keep them teef outta my neck while my other hand's feelin' around, tryna find somethin'. I'm searchin' for a couple seconds 'fore I bump into somethin' cold and hard. I grab it. A god damn rock. And a heavy one, too. Just what I need to get this deadhead off me. So I'm chuckin' the rock right inta the dead guy's dome, the bone in its skull caving right on in, then I'm shovin' the deadhead off me. In seconds, I'm back on my feet, but I hear all this moanin' behind me and to my sides. There's more of 'em. I gotta book it. Now.

I think I've put enough distance between me and those shamblers. I don't hear their groaning any more. The thing making the wheat rustle is the wind. So I'm safe. For now, at least. I'm exhausted. Legs feel like they're gonna give out at any moment. So I give into my body's demands. I sit. And I rest. Deep breaths, Cam. Deep breaths. Let that oxygen do it's magic. I spend a few minutes like this, laying down on my back and breathing. I need it. But I know that I'm not truly safe here. Those zombies are on my trail. Only a matter of time before they find me again. I can't risk that. So I get up and start moving again. And for once, it seems like luck is on my side. I can barely see it, but the stalks ahead seem to be thinning out. Just a few more steps and I might be able to get out of here. But that hope is smothered in it's crib when I get past the wheat. I'm greeted by an ominous and dubiously familiar sight: A desiccated forest marked by dead trees, barren bushes, wheat stalks and what remains of civilization. Aqueducts and old stone roads time forgot about. But in spite of any reservations I might have, I press on. Better to die fighting for answers than become one of those shamblers.

I walk into the dead forest, sticking mostly to the old stone paths. I'm not risking walking through the woods. I want to try and kill the crow and then get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. So I keep walking on the stones, mindful of whatever goes on around me. I need to take stock of what goes on here. The wind is low, but cold. Whenever it does pick up, it's a chill that would make Hell freeze over. And it carries this odd music. Nonsensical and disjointed. The kind of thing you'd expect from a horror movie. It's not pleasant. I don't like it. Then there's the trees themselves. The trunks are gnarled wood that look like they have people in them. I swear, I see a bone sticking out of one as I pass them by. It's fucking horrifying. Eventually, the trees start thinning out, and I come to another clearing. But I don't feel safe in this one. It's actively the opposite. I feel more vulnerable than I have been since getting here. But I need to keep moving. No telling what could be waiting for me here. I move through the clearing, sticking to the old stone path, boots clicking against them with a resonant sound. If that doesn't give away where I am, nothing will. This continues until trees close in on me again, but the claustrophobia isn't helping to ease my nerves. I feel even more vulnerable. Like I'm walking right into a trap. And as if on cue...

"Ah, so the fool has arrived."
I turn to face the source. I know what said that. I just gotta find the little gold jagoff. "You've weathered so much, Cameron. But this is where it ends."
I finally find where it's coming from. But I don't see the bird. No, instead I see something that looks like a person, but it's got bird claws on it's feet and wings for arms. Pointed ears and shaggy hair covering it's face to the point where I can't see any eyes. I hear rustling in some of the stray stalks, and then crows fly out from behind them. The birds gather behind the thing like a gang, ready to jump me when it says so.
"Where it ends! Where it ends!" The crows scream out in unison, voices hoarse. Exactly what I expected from those damn things.
"Da fuck youse want from me?" I shout, not knowing what else to do as I scan the ground for something I can use as a weapon. But I don't see anything. Nothing immediately.
"To break you, Cameron. To break you and bend you to His will." The thing responds. His will.? His... Him... Oh no... This isn't... Fuck... This ain't lookin' too go-

rustle
rustle
groooaoooaooaaaaaooaan

That snaps me out of whatever haze got a hold of me. I look around and see zombies starting to flank me. I dunno if dis crow got any clue what's gonna happen, but zombies usually eat dumb motherfuckers like me. I gotta jet, and quick. So I turn the hell around and start hoofin' it. Down the old cobblestone jawn. No clue if I'm headin' towards somethin' safe. But goddammit, it's gotta be better than this. But as I'm runnin', I hear it again.

"Run all you want, Cameron. But you cannot escape the inevitable. You bear my mark. Soon, you will bear His hex. The mark... of my Master."

My stems are burnin' up again. I ain't built for this kinda thing. Runnin' for this long. But when you gotta deal wit' all kinda demon and undead jawn, ya don't get much of a choice. But I'm startin' to slow down. My body makin' me decide. Save my energy or die from bein' tired. Probably what happened to poor Rob, before whatever grabbed him and dragged what was left of his body into the wheat. I'm catchin' my breath, my head hangin' between my knees, that stale air goin' into my lungs. But it's better than nothin'. So I'm chillin' here for a couple minutes 'til I feel steady. Alright, breath in... Deep and low... Okay. Straighten up, Cam. You'll be okay. I can get out of this.

I start back on the stone path, eyes and ears open to anything that might be sneaking up on me. I know that thing is following, but I can't place where it is. I just hope I managed to put a good amount of distance between me and it. As I ruminate on my thoughts, the wind picks back up, carrying that same twisted melody as before. In an odd way, it's comforting. Because I know when I hear it I'm relatively safe. It's when the music stops that danger is near. With this in mind, I keep moving. Staying steady on the old stone path. It stays this way for a good... twenty minutes or so until the music fades and I hear rustling in the wheat stalks. I look up and see the dead forest split. I'm on one end and I can see it continue on the other. The stone path, however, goes through a huge section of wheat, the tall stalks swaying in the wind. Jus' what I fuckin' needed... I know I need to keep moving, but with how dense the wheat is, it's a massive risk. But it's also a risk to stay here. Right where I am. If I don't move, those shamblers and crows are gonna catch up to me. Worse yet, that thing. Can't have that happen. So I start walking again, albeit at a faster pace so I can keep this distance.

The way the wheat is swaying around me is just all kinds of wrong. It's not because of the wind. The wind would start at the top of the stalk and work it's way down. This is starting in the middle of the stalk. As if something is interacting with the plant itself. Luckily, it's not too close, so I don't really have to worry. I pay it no attention. But my gut is screaming. Telling me about something here. And I get the feeling that it's right...

I'm halfway there. It's a straight shot. But anything could be waiting for me. And whatever is in the wheat is getting closer. It is... too close. I stop when I see some of the stalks move just ahead of me. Gut's telling me if I go by them right now, it'll end poorly. And I'm gonna listen for once. I search the ground around me, looking for something that I can throw. I eventually find a small rock. This should work. I pick it up and toss it in the direction of the rustling wheat. As soon as it hits the ground something bursts from out the stalks. I don't even know where to begin. It looks like some disgusting mashup of a horse and a crow, but it's got no skin or muscle. Just bone. Pale and rotten bone. Jeez...How jawned up is this? I gotta watch myself if I wanna make it across this field in one piece.

My pace slows. Not good, but I want to be thorough. Every time I see the wheat rustle near the path ahead of me, I immediately start looking for a stone. Once I find one, I chuck it. And one of those disgusting horse-crow hybrids pops out to snatch it up before running off. And yeah, there's more than one of those things. I don't know how many there are in this field, and frankly, I don't want to know. They creep me out. So I repeat this process every time I see the wheat move in a way that I don't like. Soon enough, I'm on the other side without a scratch. Thank fuck. I take a deep breath, and get back to walking, finding more structures as I go. The aqueducts I saw when I got to the dead forest seem a helluva lot closer now. At most, maybe a mile and a half away from me? I can definitely use those to get out of here if I'm able to reach them. The problem is: I gotta get to 'em.

I'm getting closer to the aqueducts. Maybe a couple hundred more yards. But as I get closer, something starts to become apparent: Those aqueducts and old ruined walls aren't the only building here. There's what looks like an old cottage just ahead, and in my way. As much as my gut is screaming in protest, I'm going in the place. Pull the white-person move in the horror movie: Mess with things that should just be left alone. As if I haven't already done that enough as things stand. How else would I have ended up here? I think I see light in one of the windows as I get closer. There's... There's someone in the cottage. Someone who isn't dead. I immediately start running, risks be damned. If there is someone there, they can help me. And that... That is not an opportunity I'm gonna let pass by me.

I make it inside the cottage without any problem... But I don't see anybody. Whoever was here must've heard me coming and booked it, thinking I was one of those shamblers or horse-crows. Fuck. Good lookin' out, Cam. Yoused yer chance like a jagoff. But there has to be some kind of silver lining. Maybe there's something here I can use that'll help me escape. Better yet: Take out that damn murderbird. So I start searching, not finding anything at first, and then I notice that there's still light in here. Maybe it was the fireplace? But as I turn toward it... it's empty. No wood. No fire. Not even any charcoal or ash. Just an empty fireplace. But it's still the source of the light, just... not in a way I was expecting: Fireflies. A lot of them. I've never seen so many piled up like this. I'm no entomologist, but that can't be natural, can it? So I move to investigate, and as I do, the bugs seems to react to my presence. They start to coalesce into... something. Something that takes the form... of a woman? What the fuck...

"Oh... You don't seem familiar. You must be a new desiree." She says. I dunno how she's even yappin'. The jawn don't got no face, like no mouth er nothin', plus she look like she's made outta light er somethin'. But it's whateva', I guess. Might as well rap wit' a ghost. Save my brains, or what's left of 'em.
"Uh... No.? I don't think any of this feels familiar for either of us." I respond, trying to inject some humor into my fucked up situation. This ghost girl doesn't seem to register it, though.
"You must be here to gather His testaments. But you have nothing to collect them with." I hear her say in an ominous tone. How... How do I respond to that?
"Gather... His testaments? W...What? Nah, I'm tryna get outta here. This weird lookin' crow jawn's on my ass. I gotta jet from 'im." The girl's light seems to have a reaction to my words. I can't tell if it's positive or negative. Neutral, maybe? No, definitely negative. The light's dimming. That can't be a good sign.
"You can't run from Murim." She says. Murim... I guess that's the crow's name. Might as well ask more about him while we're both here.
"Murim? Is that... Is that the crow? The little gold bastard with red eyes?" Her light reacts again, dimming even more.
"Yes. Murim is the master of this place. His Ceramic Grove of Wheat. He can change his form at will to bring those who wish to curry His favor here to gather their testaments." She's mentioning Him again. Aright, awright. Just peachy. Dat's exactly what I needed to hear.
"Who's Him?" I ask, not entirely wanting to know the answer. I expect the light to dim again, but it gets brighter instead. Too bright, honestly.
"He can grant your heart's deepest desire. All you need to do is bring Him the three testaments and He will grant you an audience." Jawn's just as mum as that damn museum display. I then hear a twig snap outside, taking my attention briefly. That's followed by groaning. Looks like Murim's horde of zombies has finally caught up to me. If I ask one more thing, it has to be pretty damn specific and straight to the point.

"How do I get out of this grove? Do I climb up those aqueducts? Or is there another way out?" The girl's light somehow manages to get even brighter, damn near blinding me.
"Anyway you deem fit. But Murim won't let you leave easily. Not when you have his mark in your eye." The light starts fading as I hear the shamblers begin to beat on the front door, trying to break it down. I look out a window and see the aqueducts. Not that far away. All I gotta do is book it. So I move to that window, bust it open and move.

Legs are burning. Lungs are working overtime. But I gotta get to those aqueducts. That's my way out of here. 'Anyway way you deem fit.' That's what the ghost said. And god dammit, I'm making this my exit. I finally reach the base of one, and without hesitation, start climbing despite my exhausted state. It's slow going, but the hope is that once I reach the top, I'll be safe, at least from the zombies below. They ain't gonna be able to get up dere. Dis ain't no Left 4 Dead campaign. Dey ain't dat scaries. I keep climbing,slowly making my way up and up and up, body screaming and aching in pain from all the effort I'm putting in. But eventually, I reach the top. This aqueduct is going through a hill. I can see that tunnel. So I start running again. Especially since I hear those damn crows coming at me now. Murim clearly doesn't want me to leave. But you know what? Fuck dat birdie jagoff. He ain't got nuttin' on me. The tunnel gets closer and closer, all while the crows are screaming at me.

"Stop him for the master! Stop him for the master!"

But I pay them no heed. Not when freedom is so close. I reach the tunnel, and keep running. I don't care if it's dark. I just need to keep going down it, an I'll be back in the preserve. But I can hear Murim behind me. Far away behind me.

"Run all you want, Cameron. You'll be back here eventually."

|-Thursday morning, March 21st, 2024. Brunswick Nature Park, 2575 River Road South-East, Winnabow, North Carolina-|

The tunnel gives way to woodland. I'm out. No weird haze. No wheat. No dead trees. Just oak and pine with full foliage on them. I'm back in the preserve. And from what I can tell, I'm not too far from where I parked my car. Maybe a few hundreds yards? I definitely recognize this little dirt road. I look to my left, I can see an open space of dirt, and what looks like a bank. That way is Town Creek and that little swamp just past it. Which means I need to head right. That'll get me to where I parked. So I take a deep breath, and start walking. As I do so, I pat myself down. No injuries. No cuts or bruises. Not any I can feel. Clothes are dirty but not really damaged. But I feel something in my back pocket. I pull it out. A wallet. And it's not mine. I open it and see a state ID from North Dakota. An ID for one Robert Johnston Lang. If I have this... then whatever it was I experienced last night wasn't a dream. It was real. And that terrifies me.

I eventually reach my car. I unlock it, and slide into the driver's seat. I turn on the overhead light and pop down the mirror. Checking for any more injuries. I got a few bruises, but nothing I can really worry about. I can absolutely pass this off as me being an idiot again. But there's something that catches my attention. My left eye. There's something... there. I don't know what. And I don't like it. I get closer to the mirror and turn my head, and what I see sends a chill down my spine:

That golden ghost girl in the cottage wasn't kidding. My left pupil... It looks like a crow. Murim's mark. This is far from over.

|-Thursday morning, March 21st, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

Ain't no way I'm gettin' rid of this outta my head. Not wit' his jawn's wallet in my skit. Not when I kin see dat crow in my eye. I'm not even kiddin'. The more I look at it, the more I realize how screwed I am. How am I gonna get outta this whole jawn situation? Dat damn bird kin find me whenever now. I gotta figure out better ways to scrap wit' it. Da light seemed to do da trick. Knocked it outta da sky. But it weren't enough. I need more. Way more. But what could I use? Jawn's like guns are outta da question. I don't even know where I could get one wit'out no hassles. I ain't exactly got a permit to be usin' one. Alright, breathe... Steady yourself, Cam.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I take one last look in the bathroom mirror, my iris still looking like Murim. Can other people... see that? Like, is it something that is very visible? Or is it just me that can see it? Me and... Murim... Jesus Christ... I'm not coming out of this unscathed. No way that I can. Not at this point. I exit the bathroom and lay down on the couch. I can't sleep. I'm too shook. Too paranoid. What if Murim sends me back to that place while I sleep? In another dream? And the farm from that one dream... nightmare... That had to be the Ceramic Grove of Wheat. It's too coincidental for it not to have been. But how did I even get there? Murim uses magic, right? He had to have used it. Why else would I appear in the grove in a dream? How else could I have gotten there after running through a forest for what felt like hours on end? And all those zombies... The feathered fuck practices necromancy, doesn't he? Why else would Rob start talking to me despite looking like he was rotting for two months straight? Speaking of... I take the wallet out of my pocket and look at the state ID again. Says exactly what I remember it saying.
"Name: Lang, Robert Johnston. Date of birth: August 15th, 1951. Home address: 215 5th Street North-East, Valley City, North Dakota. Sex: male. Height: six feet, five inches. Eyes: blue. Hair: dirty blonde."
An idea than pops into my head: Maybe, just maybe, I can find some more information if I look up Rob's case. He would have been classified as a missing person, right? I head into Bo's room and grab my laptop, setting it down on Maddy's desk since she's not here and it's clear again. I immediately head to the website for the Valley City Police Department and go through their missing persons cases, but see nothing. So I head back to Google and broadly search for his name. It takes a minute, but I eventually find the man I'm looking for. Woah... I wasn't expecting any of this...

Immediately, I see something that's weird: Rob was first reported missing on April 19th, 1982. Nineteen eighty-two... He would have been 31. Yet when I found him in the Grove, it looked like he had been dead for only two months. Maybe he had somehow managed to survive in there for over forty years.
...
...
...
No. That makes no sense. What little hair he had left on his skull wasn't grey. It was still dirty blonde. Meaning he wasn't old when he died. Is the Grove... some kind of pocket dimension where time doesn't have any meaning? Maybe that could explain the golden ghost. The clothes she seemed to be wearing... Looked like they were from an actual century ago. The Roaring Twenties. And why was she a ghost? Why did it take the form of fireflies? I've got so many questions, and I don't know if I want to know the answers. Regardless, I open a new tab, wanting to know more about Murim and Him.

I find some of the same blogs that I did last time, but I also see new entries. I've never given much stock into the occult, but fuck, I don't really have a lot of options here. I'll have to take what I can get. I click a link to one of these new blogs and start reading. A lot of this is just retreading already researched grounds, but some things are new:

 - Murim absolutely can raise the dead. Animals and humans. Doesn't matter. The exact purposes vary, though the most common seems to be as some kind of defense for the Grove.
 - He can exert His own influence over the Grove, despite it being Murim's domain. Okay, need to find out a lot more about Him.
 - Illusions can not only affect one's dreams, but also reality. One minute you're walking down a city street and the next you're in some kind of hellscape, all thanks to Murim. That leads me to the next point...
 - Murim, when not directly doing His bidding, is a malevolent trickster. He will find suitable targets and begin harassing them relentlessly until their sanity breaks.

That last point is too familiar. Way too familiar. It's almost as if that's what I've been experiencing since Sunday. Since Murim first made himself known to me outside of Stoney Creek in Virginia. I still remember that morning. The way he just... stared at me from the roof of my car. The way it filled me with dread. If onliest I knew what was comin' down the pike... Against my better judgement, I keep reading, taking notes where I can. Some of dis stuff ain't lookin' too jawn-y:

 - Murim can influence any and all crows in the areas he finds himself in. They become his eyes and ears, informing him an where potential prey could be.
 - If Murim deems to prey hardy enough, he may attempt to turn them into a proxy for Him.
 - Should this potential proxy be rejected, they join His court for eternity.

I don't like how any of that reads. And I sure as fuck ain't becoming His proxy. Nor am I going to become some kind of comedian in His court. Absolutely the fuck not. Not in this lifetime or any. But what can I do to avoid this? There's gotta be some kind of way to fight back? There's always some way to defend yourself against demons. Right...

By the time I have plans formulated, it's past three. Maddy should be back any second now. So I pack up my laptop and but it away, not wanting to get my ass chewed out by her. I get my laptop put away in Bo's room and head back out, not really knowing what to do at this point. I feel vulnerable. Exposed. Like I'm some primordial ape running through the African savanna to escape a giant eagle in the sky, not knowing if a lion or hyena is hidden in the grass ahead of me. I look through my notes on my phone. Murim's a necromancer, huh? Jus' what I fuckin' needed. A magical crow dat can bring back some deadheads to rip me apart. Limb from limb. Can't have that happen. Illusions. Making me see and hear things that aren't there. Basically an acid trip, but I'm not on drugs. But one question still remains: How did he get me to the Grove? Obviously his magic can do that. But how? That's what I can't figure out.

I take a deep breath, needing to steady myself again in the face of all this information.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

Repeat that for like, a minute, and I'm not shaking anymore. What can I do to get more information? One idea keeps coming to mind, but I don't really want to go through with it: The Museum of the Bizarre. Maybe there's something I missed in that special exhibit. Something that can help me understand just what the hell it is that's going on. But that means seeing the actual display again. And with everything that happened last night... Do I want to see that thing? The supposed appearance of Him? The more I think about this, the more I realize I might not really have a choice here. It's damned if I do, damned if I don't. So I go, slip my shoes on, grab my keys and head out of the apartment's door. My destination: The Historic District.

|-That afternoon. Museum of the Bizarre, 201 South Water Street-|

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

That old jawn got me through some real jank. Ain't no reason to stop now. I'm still hesitant. I don't want to go back in there, but again, I don't have much of a choice. While I collect myself, I go over some of the notes I took while skimming over Rob's case. Rob was an avid outdoors-man. Constantly heading into the wilderness surrounding Valley City, going so far as to head into Minnesota on occasion, heading as far east as Itasca State Park. In early April, 1982, sometime around the 6th, Rob went out east towards Park Rapids in Minnesota. From there he went into Itasca. Supposed to just be a week long adventure. Except he never came back to Valley City. Family and friends then started pestering the Park Rapids Police Department, then the Minnesota state police, eventually resulting in a missing persons case being opened. But they never found Rob. He disappeared without a trace. I sit up straight, adjusting my posture as I take a look at the museum. Time to head in.

I unbuckle my seat belt and push the door open, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the spring sun. Before long, I'm paying the entrance fee to get into the museum, and I start looking around. Nothing I haven't seen before, but they're also not what I'm looking for. I walk for a few more minutes until I find Him. The little Rumpelstiltskin lookin' fuck. I approach the display and read the little sign again.
'No one really knows His name or where He comes from. A strange boy. Rumpelstiltskin. Or simply Him. All that is known is that He is prevalent in England and Germany and that He can grant one's deepest desire. This wish usually comes at a cost, a cost that no one is able to truly pin down. All that is known is that you must gather three gifts to present to Him at the behest of His marquises, the Crow and the Snake. With some luck and determination, He will accept the gifts and grant the seekers wish.'
There's gotta be more here. I briefly look around the room I'm in, and don't see anything immediately. But as I scan, I see not something... but someone. Someone who gives off weird vibes. I don't know if they work here. It's possible, but I don't want to hedge my bets. But it doesn't matter. Whoever she is, she's spotted me. Doesn't take long for her to make her approach.

"You look a bit mazed, do 'ee? 'Tisn't Him causin' it, is it me 'ansum?" She says when she reaches me. The fuck? Is she... like... English or something? I should probably respond before I get carried away here.
"Kinda. More like one of His servants." I tell her, still not entirely sure if this weird woman is friend or foe.
"Gurr, 'eez it? Which 'un then? The Serpent or the Crowser?" I hear her say next. No. Not English. Celtic. But she isn't Irish.
"The Crow. Mur-" She stops me before I can finish speaking, finger on my lips.
"Mind yerself, see. Just sayin' his name might fetch 'im right to 'ee. That's if you ain't already got his mark on 'ee, mind." Ah, fuck me, I'm done for...

"So, 'ee came outta the Grove, did 'ee? Hard ta reckon 'ee's as right as 'ee is, if 'ee did." She says as she takes a sip of her drink. She didn't drag me far from the museum, literally just at the end of the street it's on.
"Yeah. I'm surprised, too. Maybe even more than you." I respond, still unsure how I managed to get out of there without a scratch, save for that mark Murim put into my eye. The woman shifts in her seat, getting closer as she does so. I can't tell if it's a tick of the light or if it's something actually there, but I think she's got a tattoo on the back of her neck. One that looks like a snake...
"Aye, see, there's always more than what you reckon, innit? Times, the hurts are the ones you can't rightly see, mind." She says, still inching closer to me. I get the feeling she's trying to get into my pants. In a regular situation, I'd be okay with it, but this is not a regular situation. So I lightly push her away, wanting some personal space.
"What d'ya see in 'ere, me 'ansum?" She asks, a wry smile appearing on her lips as she does so. "An endless forest surrounding a giant field of wheat, itself surrounding a dead woodland. Skeletal horse-crow things kept following me in the wheat alongside zombies." I tell her, still unsure if I should be doing that. She takes another sip of her drink, eyes never leaving me as she does so. But she doesn't say anything afterwards. That can either be a good sign or a bad sign. Probably bad.

I reach over to grab a fry, the salt hitting my tongue as I start chewing. But I can still feel her eyes on me. It's like she's analyzing me, looking for something I somehow missed when I came out of the Grove. It's starting to get uncomfortable. Uncomfortable... and suspicious.
"It's mad rude to hawk, ya know?" I tell her, wanting to get the feeling of eyes off me. I already have Murim to deal with. I don't need her.
"No scratches nor marks, mind... 'less maybe..." She squints as she speaks, eyes never leaving mine. Fuck... She can see it, can't she? Murim's mark. I contemplated it before, and now I'm doing it again. Other people can see how my iris is misshapen. I just hope they think I'm some kind of medical anomaly.
"Narn o's be safe 'ere, us ain't. Can't be out 'n about like this fer too long." I then hear her say, nerves at the ready. Red flags being raised. It's like when Bo brought me to the museum and he just stared at the display of Him while muttering some bullshit: She knows more than she's letting on. And I don't like that. But then I hear her mutter something under her breath.
"The Serpent be creepin' and the Crow's out 'unting..." I think that's what I hear as I watch her walk away, her finger wagging in a gesture for me to follow her. My gut is saying no, but maybe she's my ticket to figuring everything out. So against my better judgement, for the umpteenth time, I follow her.

We end up back at my car, the woman sliding into my passenger seat while I get the engine started. I can feel the tension in the air. There's a lot of it. And I'm not liking this. A part of me feels like I've just signed my death warrant, but as I sneak a glace at her, I see that tattoo again. Definitely wasn't a trick of the light. There's something there. And it is in the shape of a snake. I don't like the way it makes me feels. The vibes it gives off. It's... too similar... I get my eyes somewhere else as I ignite the engine, and then I hear her speak again.
"Best 'ead on down t' Lake Forest, do 'ee." She says, knowing where it is she wants to go. And to take me in this impromptu kidnapping. "Us be on the same side, if ee wants to reckon that." Given everything that's happened over the past few days, things that I can't be certain of, that is something I am very certain of.

|-Late afternoon. 105 Pinecrest Parkway-|

"Make yerself acquainted, mind, but don't be gettin' too cozy. I ain't one for keepin' folks what's been marked hangin' about too long, see." She tells me as she flips the lights on, and I see a lot of things that I don't particularly like: Maps. Photographs in dark alleys and dead forests. What looks like a crime board. The kind a detective would put red thread over to connect the leads and evidence together.
"Jesus Christ..." Is all I can muster, still trying to process all of this. Whoever this woman is, it's clear that she's been at this for a while. And that concerns me. We look to be around the same age: Early to mid twenties. I walk over to some of the photos, and a few look way too familiar. They look like they were taken in the Grove. And then some others... A forest? A forest that's flooded? What the hell has she seen?

"I know this 'ere makes me look loike a right conspiracy nutter, an' maybe I am. But I spied the Crow's mark in yer eye back to th' museum, I did. Couldn't leave 'ee be after seein' that, no. Not when I'm lugged wi' a mark meself." She undresses to a point and turns her back to me, confirming what I was suspecting earlier: The snake tattoo. But it's not a tattoo. It's a branding. Like what Murim did to my eye.
"Who did that? Couldn't have been Mu- ER- the Crow, could it?" I ask, managing to stop myself from saying Murim's name out loud. The woman shifts, turning back to face me before she speaks again.
"The Snake. His other marquise, she is." The Snake... Right, He has another servant, doesn't He? How could I forget that part? But who is the Snake? Should I even ask that? Feels like something that will only bring more trouble my way. But whatever choice I'm thinking of gets made for me. "Whatever you reckon about the Crow, the Snake be a proper sight worse. 'Tisn't just tricks o't'eye and seein' things. She'll have 'ee fooled, she will. Lead 'ee astray. Play about wi' yer senses. Gotta keep yer wits about 'ee, or she'll have 'ee for sure." That's... ominous. Because of course the Snake is worse than Murim. Why wouldn't she be?
"So what're we doin'? Can't keep givin' the runaround. She got a name or what?" That was a bad thing to ask. Knowing that I can't say Murim's name out loud, like he's a wendigo or something. I expect the idea to get shot down, but to my surprise, the woman comes closer, and whispers something into my ear.
"Aziel." She takes a step back, judging my reaction before she speaks again. "She 'eard that, I reckon, an' she's a-comin' 'ere now. Not that it matters a fig, mind. You saw 'er mark right 'ere on me neck, didn' ya?" She's probably right. If this is like a wendigo, speaking the name would probably empower it. Hey, speaking of names...
"Do you have a name? How do I know you're actually real and that this isn't a hallucination?" I ask, tone getting aggressive. But the woman seems to understand.
"Senara. I'm from Penzance." She says, no hint of anger in her voice. Guess she's done this before.

I scan the room again, seeing various different objects: A head bundle of wheat. A dead crow preserved in what I have to assume is formaldehyde. A big-ass snake skin. I pan over and see sage on the coffee table. Is it for burning? I wouldn't be surprised. But would it actually work? Would it be an effective deterrent? Should I ask? Does it matter? Senara has probably seen where I'm looking at this point.
"Old maid back 'ome in Kernow, she give 'em to me afore I come 'ere to Wilmington. Said they'd 'elp keep me safe, she did." She says, looking at the sage solemnly.
"Did it?" I ask, unsure if I want to know the answer.
"Nah, see, these 'ere ain't no ordinary devils we'm tanglin' wi'. Burning sage an' scatterin' salt? Won't do a bit o' good, zur. Once they've marked 'ee, 'tisn't 'bout if they find 'ee, but when. And find 'ee they will, sure as eggs. No hidin' from that, no way." Senara responds, her voice going monotone. Not a good sign. A bad sign, some might say. If salt rings and burning sage won't keep us safe... Then what will?

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

One last huff and I'm steadied. For now, at least. Where do we go from here? How do we protect ourselves? Senara has clearly been at this for a while. Maybe a year or two given how many photos and artifacts she has. She has to have some ideas.
"Is there anything we can do?" I ask, wanting something that can help in this. I watch Senara take a deep breath as she formulates a response. I don't think I'm going to like what I'm about to hear.
"Proper job? I dunno. I've tried all sorts, I 'ave. They don't allus work." She respond, voice still monotone, giving an answer that's somehow worse than what I was expecting.
"They don't work?" I ask, voice trembling with angst.
"Not for long, no. They keep findin' new ways to mess 'bout wi' me, see? 'Tis bin a bit of a job, keepin' up, like." She says, something that does nothing to ease my nerves. I take another glance at the sage on the table. It's partially burnt, telling me it was used recently, but I don't smell anything. Must've been sometime last night, judging by the fact there's no real aroma in the air and by how much the sage is charred.

thump

Something hits a window. It's loud enough to get our attention, and I'm being reminded of Sunday morning, when I first saw Murim. I remember distinctly he was hitting the window of that hotel room multiple times just to get my attention. All during that stupid "Witching Hour"...
"Yer gotta be goin' now." I hear Senara say, putting my nerves on edge.
"What? No way. Not when he's out there, waitin' for either of us to come outta here." I protest, knowing I won't get far. Senara seems like the stubborn type.
"Tisn't the Crow." Her tone is adamant, stern. She then walks towards me and slides something into my hand.
"Right, off you go now. And don't be gawkin' behind 'ee." As if on instinct, I start moving. It's a blur, images blending together but I make it to my car and start moving. But now I've got another thing to worry about: Aziel.

|-That evening. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive-|

Aziel... The Snake... His other marquise... Another thing I need to worry about. It's bad enough that I've got Murim to deal with, but now her? Ah fuck, dis is gonna get wicked complicated, I swear. Think, Cam. There's gotta be something I can do to ward them off. Something that will be able to hide me from these things. Even if it is just for a little bit. Any time is better than no time.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

Jumping back on the laptop seems like a bad idea. Like a gateway to more problems than solutions. I don't want to take that risk. Not in the slightest. But then I remember: The slip of paper. Senara slid it into my hand before I left. That means it has something on it... and that whatever it is, it's important. I take it out of my pocket and unfold the paper. It's a number. A phone number. Senara's phone number. Immediately, I get ideas in my head. I immediately grab my phone and put the number in, writing out my message. I send it, and within a few seconds I get a response.

'Didn't think you'd have the balls. What do you need?' Is what I read. Funny how she sounds borderline unintelligible when speaking. But over text, it's a whole different fuckin' story. Aight, whateva.
'Just how much do you know?" I ask, sure that the answer I will get won't be as bad as earlier. 'Too much. Way too much. Sometimes I wish I didn't know any of this.' What a helpful response. Maybe I should be more specific.
'Aziel won't start coming after me now, will she?' Will typing out her name empower her? I fuckin' hope not. I feel my phone buzz as I look around, meaning that Senara has responded.
'No. Aziel will leave you alone. You have Murim's mark. They don't get a long too well.' That's some form of relief. I just need to worry about Murim. But that means that I still need to worry about Murim. I then watch as Senara forms another response before it gets sent.
'The reverse is also true: I've got Aziel's branding on my neck. Murim leaves me alone because of that. Probably for the better Murim's after you. If it was Aziel's attention you got, you'd have been dead a while ago.' Well that's reassuring. If this Snake was the one after me, I'd already be dead. How fun.
'What can I expect now? Does Murim even know about you?' I ask, still trying to get as much information as I can.
'Yes. But again, he doesn't bother me. Though that might change if he's seen you with me. We were being followed by a murder after leaving the museum.' Oh for fuck's sake...

caw
caw
caw

I turn my head to face the source of the sound. In some of the brush past the sidewalk, I see three crows. They've probably been spying on me since I got back to Maddy's building. I wouldn't be surprised if it was for longer, like this morning. Murim uses crows as spies, after all. Like some fucked up analogy for Odin and his ravens. His eyes and ears. And I can tell they're under Murim's spell. Those birds are looking straight at me. Piercing my soul with those black eyes of theirs. No pretending here. He knows where to find me now. Has for a while. I feel my phone buzz again. Serana has sent me another message.
'Take care. You've been marked. Nowhere is safe from the marquises after that. Not truly. I'll keep in contact when I can, but I won't make promises.' I take that as my cue to head inside, hoping that the crows don't see me move. But as I scan around, I don't see them. That should put me at ease, but it doesn't. Those murderbirds could be anywhere: In a tree nearby. On top of one of the buildings. Fuck, they could be on top of my car for all I know. I keep my ears open to hear scuffling and scraping above me. I listen closely for a few seconds, but calm down a bit when I hear nothing. I'm in the clear, but I can't be too sure of it. So I get out of my car and make a mad dash for building 4721. Once I'm inside the building, I take a deep breath of relief and head for the third floor. I get to the elevator, open the door and press the button. After a few seconds, it starts to close, only for it to re-open. It's Bo. He must've come back as soon as I did. But something is... off. I can't quite place what, though.

"You alright there, Cam? You look whiter than a ghost. You been gettin' your shut-eye?" He asks, the worry evident in his voice.
"Uh, yeah... I'm fine." I tell him, not wanting to be called crazy. But Bo then says something that sets me on edge again.
"Not ever'body sees a crow and hightails it outta there. You been havin' a bee in your bonnet 'bout somethin'. What's eatin' at you, Cam?" Oh fuck me... Looks like that jawn from the other day's comin' back: Bo knows way more than he's lettin' on. He's onto Murim. Onto Him. The elevator starts rising and it becomes a blur again. I don't get lucid until we're in Maddy's apartment. 3G. Bo quickly heads into the kitchen and gets me some water, wanting me to have some clarity of mind before I start speaking. I tae the glass and start drinking from it. Three big gulps and then I set it down on the coffee table.

"What's all the fuss? I know crows are a little touched, but scarin' folks off like that? Ain't everybody does that, now." I hear him say in that accent of his. How do I even start...
"If I told yous, youse wouldn't believe it. Not even a lil' bit." Is my response. Bo seems like the traditional sort. So what he says next surprises me.
"You'd be surprised. I done spent a good spell over on my granddaddy's farm up yonder in Burgaw, just a holler north of here. Lord have mercy, I done heard and seen some right peculiar things." He starts going into some story, but I'm not paying attention. Not out of malice, but because there's something else that has my eye. It's glinting, and it's in Bo's room. I get up, interrupting Bo and walk over to it.
"Hey, you doin' okay there, Cam?" He says as he follows me. But I'm not paying attention. I reach whatever was glinting, reach down, and pull it out.

"Fucking shit..." I say as I look at it. And Bo seems to have a similar reaction to it.
"Lawd have mercy and bless my heart... It's more'n just some kinda haint tale... Shouldn't've gone and doubted Paw-Paw..."
I've got a gold feather in my hand... Murim knows I'm here. Shit's 'bout to get real fucked up now.

|-Thursday evening, March 21st, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Room 3G, Azalea Landing Drive, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

"You knew this WHOLE fuckin' time and didn't say NOTHIN'!?" Dumbass jabroni hick keeping shit hid from me. Especially when it COULD HELP ME RIGHT NOW!
"How's I supposed to know it were fer real? I figured it were jest some kinda haint tale. That's the kind of thing you tell your young'uns so they don't get crossways." I ain't buyin' Bo's schtick for nothin'. He knew 'bout Murim and chose not to help me out. Jagoff redneck. I'm about ready to choke the muddafucka out. FUCK. What the fuck is my life even? How'd I end up in this jawn?

Okay, take a step back. Breathe.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I'm feeling a bit calmer after that, but I'm still mad at Bo. Fuckin' jagoff redneck.
"You couldn't have brought this up sooner?" I ask him, wanting to know why information was withheld.
"Do I gotta say it again? I figured it was just some kinda haint tale. How's I supposed to know it was real and you was mixed up in all that mess?" He says. I can't tell if he's being genuine or condescending. Probably the latter. He's fucking with me. Playing off my fears. Working with Murim. I look back down at the feather, the way it glints in the dying sunlight. Just how much does Bo know?

"What are you hiding?" I prod with the intent of interrogation.
"Ya wanna hear what my Paw-Paw tole me?" Bo responds, not taking too kindly to my interrogation.
"Go on." Without hesitation, Bo starts talking.
"He and his brother, they'd pass the summers on they daddy's spread. Makin' sure every seed was right where it belonged, plumb across that whole field. Shoot, they planted any ol' thing you could imagine. Even the stuff that weren't worth a flip. Just tryin' to grow whatever'd bring home the bacon come harvest time, bless their hearts. Corn, soybeans, cabbage, lettuce. Even wheat." Wheat... Because of course there was fucking wheat... Just great... "They'd always lose half thet there harvest. 'Specially the wheat. Just wouldn't bake right, ya know. Go rotten quick as you please. Pure no 'count. Drove my great-granddaddy plum crazy. So my great-uncle, he got riled up and decided to do somethin' 'bout it. Musta been... somewheres 'round '73 when all this went down. Well, that's if Paw-Paw ain't lyin'." Bo pauses. Clearly, this story he was told isn't one he likes or views positively. "Them bad crop years, now, they always started with a mess of crows gatherin'. More than you'd rightly expect. Then they'd start findin' feathers. Wasn't like no bird you'd see 'round these parts. Bigger, they was. And gold-like. Just seein' one'd give you the shivers, I'm tellin' ya. Paw-Paw, bless his heart, he'd get all worked up seein' it, tryin' to figure out what in tarnation it was. How'd it get they-er. What all it belonged to. Just bein' 'round it was enough to set him off somethin' awful." I should probably stop him. But for whatever reason, I don't. I just let Bo continue with this trauma dump.
"His brother? Lawd have mercy, that sorry thang was like kryptonite to him. Just shut him plumb down for days on end, I tell you what. Then he just up and lost it. Grabbed a shotgun, some shells, and went strollin' out to the field one night in October."
"Did he ever come back?" Why did I ask that? I know what the answer is gonna be.
"Naw, he didn't. Doggone, he just walked on out yonder into the wheat field and never did come back. They never found his body, neither. And they tried, bless their hearts: My great-granddaddy, he looked and looked for days fer his boy. Rummaged all over that farm, time and time again. But he come up empty ever' single time." Jesus... That's messed up. How do you even respond to that? "Paw-Paw keeps a-hearin' his voice, though. Out yonder in that ol' field. Hears him a-hollerin' and a-screamin'. Swears he's shoutin' his name. Even hears gunshots, bless his heart. Ain't had a wink o' sleep since then. Can't rightly say I fault 'im none. I reckon my head wouldn't be worth a plug nickel if I had to listen to that kinda stuff for more than fifty years."
"Fifty years?" There's no way that... No. Just no.
"Over fifty years ago. That happened back in October of '73. It's March of '24 now"

Where do we go from here? How do I process this? Jesus Christ... This shit goes deeper than I thought. And for far longer. Just how many people has Murim disappeared? How many people has he killed? How many poor fucks has he turned into those shambling deadheads? How many families has he torn apart just because he got bored one day? How much trauma exists because Murim wanted to have some fun? Murim... and Him? How much of it was because of His will? How many people's lives were irrevocably altered because Murim was funneling them towards Him? The more I think about this...
"Is there any way we can fight this?" I ask, knowing that Bo doesn't have an answer I'll like. "Naw, not that I'm aware of. Paw-Paw shore don't, and he's had over fifty years to git it figured out." He responds. God dammit... I start pacing, trying to not let nerves get the best of me. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. If Bo of all people doesn't have a clue as to how someone can fight Murim, what kind of chance do I stand? I'm wicked fucked right now. Especially since Murim knows where I'm at now. Alright, think. What can I do to protect myself? There's gotta be something. I take another look at the feather. How did Murim even get in here? None of the windows are open. Unless..

I start moving towards the window, Bo looking at me like I'm mad.
"Whatcha doin'?" I don't pat him any attention, though. I just keep walking. And I immediately see something that's off: I can feel a breeze coming through. But not through the vent. I walk over and push the curtains aside. Just as I thought: The window is open. Wide open. Wide enough for, say, a crow to fly through and drop a feather. But now the question is how it got open.
"You didn't leave this open last night, did you?" I say as I turn back to Bo, feather still in hand. "Shoot, no. I ain't crackin' that window 'til it's good and May." He responds, still taking unkindly to my interrogation.
"Then how did it get open. Something tells me you can only do that from the inside. Where we are now. And we're on the third floor of the building." I then add, still interrogating Bo.
"You 'spect me to know? I was gone from here 'fore the rooster crowed this mornin'. Ain't laid a hand on that there winda, not once." He sounds accusatory, like he thinks I'm the one who opened the window. But I haven't been here all that long. I look back down at the feather in my hand. Damn thing... I should just throw it out. Be done with it. The more I look at the damn thing, the more I feel like my mind is slipping. But for whatever reason, I can't. I'm compelled to keep it. I wouldn't be surprised to learn if this was another way Murim has to keep tabs on me. Like an airtag for your phone or wallet. More reasons to get rid of this feather. But that urge to keep it...

thud

Me and Bo both snap our attention to where the sounds came from. It wasn't the window. It was the front door. With everything that has happened within the past twenty-four hours... I'm on edge.

|-Twenty minutes earlier-|

I should... I should talk with Cam. I know it'll sound stupid, but I want him to know that I still care. I'll always care about him. He's like the brother I wish I had growing up. And seeing him so... out of it... It's making me nervous. Worried. I just want to be sure that I'm imagining things. That it's just my mind messing with me. It's settled: Once I get back, I'm gonna sit Cam down and just... talk. Pick his brain. Make sure he's doing okay. The way he's been acting since he got here... It's too disjointed for it to just be exhaustion and sleep deprivation. I don't want to keep putting stock into the paranormal and occult, but if it helps me and Cam be at ease...

I roll my window down, wanting to feel the air for a few seconds. The rush of it hits me, but not too hard. It's quite pleasant, actually. The way it feels. A let it stay like this for a bit until I decide to roll the window back up as I reach the apartment complex. I quickly get into my parking spot and exit my car once I turn the engine off. I make my way to my building, the motions being a blur as I enter and head for the elevator. I hit the button for the third floor and start to ascend. Within a few seconds, I'm on the third floor and on my way to my apartment. I have my plan, but once I get into the actual apartment, I sense that things aren't alright. There's something in the air, and it isn't love. It's something else. Fear, maybe? I hear shuffling in Bo's room, followed by a thud. Was his window open? I don't remember it being open when I left this morning. I quickly make my way to his room to find him and Cam over by the window, arguing over something.

"Oh, shut ya yap. Could be him."
"What if it ain't, though? Could be Reilly. Or Maddy, reckon." "She's prolly busy all day. C'mon, help 'em get rid of dis jawn."
"That... Ain't how that works, Cam..."

"Uh... What're you guys up to?" My question gets the duo to immediately snap to focus on me, their faces pale. Definitely need to have that talk with Cam. If not tonight, then tomorrow. Cam fidgets for a second before he sets something aside, addressing me as he does so.
"Agh, uh... Ya back already?" He feigns ignorance despite it being past seven.
"Uh... Yes.? It's half past seven. I don't have anything else to do. What did you just put down?" I respond, my concerns not being alleviated in the slightest. I see a part of it, but not all of it and my curiosity is getting the better of me. But Cam doesn't budge.
"Whatchu talkin' 'bout? I dunno whacha mean. I ain't put nuttin' down." He says, trying to gaslight me. But it won't work. I know he set something down on the nightstand and I want to know what it was. So I walk over to said nightstand and... Oh. Well isn't that great. A golden feather. Exactly like the one I found earlier this week. This has to be a joke. But when I turn around to confront Cam about it, feather in hand, he goes pale. Correction: He gets paler. He was already pale. And somehow, more color has drained from his face. Why is this doing that to him? Just another thing for me to worry about.

"What is this?" I ask sheepishly, not entirely sure if I should be asking that. Not with what Cam currently looks like. He gulps, but stays silent. His breathing spikes, but still says nothing.
Something is wrong. And it has everything to do with this feather.
"Cam... What is this?" I ask again, most definitely against my better judgement. But again, I get no answer. Not from Cam at least.
"Ya wanna hear this? 'Cause you ain't gonna believe us if we tell ya." Bo says, his voice weak. It's not like him, and it's off-putting. I don't like it. What could he mean? What happened to Cam? "What do you mean?" I watch as Bo takes a deep breath. I'm in for another one of his grand-father's stories, aren't I?

"And he's been following you for how long?" I ask, fully expecting to not like the answer I'm given. Cam doesn't immediately respond. He takes a few seconds. A few very long seconds as he tries to collect his thoughts.
"Since Sunday." Is all he manages to say when he finally speaks. It's clear that this has taken a massive toll on him. How much, I can't tell. Not at this moment. Think that'll need to be something we work on. In the meantime, another question nags at me. One that I feel horrible asking. As if I shouldn't.
"Does he have a name?" I watch the color drain from Cam's face again. Bo looks unsteady. I've crossed a line. As I get ready to apologize, Cam slowly leans in, close to my ear and whispers something.

"Murim..."
"Mur-" He puts his hand on my mouth as I speak, blocking anymore sound from escaping my lips. "Don't... Don't say it out loud." He says. Oh great. An entity whose name I can't say out loud. How fun. But the name. Murim... I remember seeing something about names when I did that "research" the other day about European stories of a golden crow. I didn't go too far into it for obvious reasons, but it was something I took note of to look into at a later time. Guess I need to do that now. Just for ease of mind. And for anything that could help Cam out. But then something else starts nagging at me: Why is Bo reacting the way he is? What does he know about this? I turn to him, but as if sensing what I'm about to ask, he starts speaking before I can even open my mouth.

"A whole mess of old tales my Paw-Paw used to spin. Still does, ever' time I see him. They'd give me the heebie-jeebies back when I was knee-high. Ain't no doubt they will again, seein' as how it's all gospel." He says, voice still weak and unsteady. It's really getting me concerned.
"What kind of stories?" I ask, voice slowly becoming as unsteady as Bo's.
"Stuff you tell young'uns to keep 'em from actin' a fool." He responds, voice steady for once. I take a glance at the feather. Murim... Well, things just got a bit interesting, didn't they?
"And your dad told you these stories?" I continue, knowing that I probably shouldn't.
"Naw, my Paw-Paw. Not my Daddy." Bo says in response, voice becoming unsteady again. It's very clear these are things that make him uncomfortable. But still, he presses on. "Still carryin' on to this day 'bout how he hears stuff out yonder in that ol' farm field of his. All hours of the day, mind you. Clean through the night. That cawin'. Them howls. That hollerin'. He's put up with it for fifty years. I don't know how he sleeps a wink at night. How he keeps his conscience clear."

I take a step back. I want a clear head. Or as clear as a head as I can get. This is... a lot to take in. I don't even know where to being when it comes to processing this information. It's past nine at this point, and I need to get to sleep soon. I have a nine o'clock tomorrow and I want to be sure I'm awake for it. This occult business can wait for another day. I bid the two men adieu and head for my room. But something tells me that sleep won't be easy. Not with everything I've been told tonight.

|-The Ceramic Grove of Wheat-|

This is another dream. That's what this is. Because I distinctly remember sleep finally hitting me like a truck on that air mattress. I didn't go out in the middle of the night. I didn't go out for a walk or a drive. So why am I back in the Grove? Only one answer: I'm dreaming. I look around and see nothing but wheat stalks. Guess I'm in the field right now. That's fun. I wonder if any of those horse-crow things are out here with me. Or those shamblers. Just the thought is enough to get me moving. I do not want to stay in one place. Great way to get yourself killed.

As familiar as this looks, it also feels different. Like I'm in a different spot. I ain't feelin' this. Not even a little bit. But I gotta keep moving. It's not safe here. So make my way through the stalks, unsure if I'm heading towards that dead forest. I hope that I am. But my gut is screaming in protest. Hate when it does that. Usually because it ends up being right. Regardless, I keep walking. If I stay and listen, I put myself at risk. I don't want that. I want to stay mobile to minimize risk. But as I walk, I see the stalks rustle up ahead. Could be a horse-crow. So I scrounge the ground to find a rock. Once I get one in my hand, I toss it in the direction of the rustling, and one of those things pops out, thinking it was me. Good to know that strategy still works. Don't know for much longer, though. Once I'm certain that the thing has moved out of the way, I start moving again, though weary. More of those skeletal horse-crow things could be stalking me in the wheat.

It feels like hours have passed, but I know that's not the case. The moon hasn't moved once, and this is also a dream. I wish it was like a regular lucid dream, where I can fly and shit but NO, I have to get tormented by a demon bird in my sleep. Can't have shit in Wilmington. I keep walking, getting the feeling that I'm about to come across something. Not that the idea makes me feel any better. If anything, I feel worse with that. It's not a good or pleasant feeling. But I have to live with it. For now at least.

I eventually find something. Something that is familiar, for better or worse. It's the dead forest. All roads lead here, I guess. Like Rome. But this place. This Grove... it's older than Rome. Older than Greece and Persia. Older than Egypt. Even older than Sumer. It's ancient. Primordial. I can't shake that feeling. Modern man is not meant to be here, even in a dream. There are things here that human eyes are not supposed to see. The more I look at them, the more I feel my mind slip away. And the deeper I move into the Grove, the closer I feel to coming upon some kind of eldritch truth that will shatter my entire being. It's like reading from the Necronomicon or looking at Cthulhu:

Something as simple as that is enough to land you in a psyche ward, completely insane and babbling nonsense. The kind of shit that'd earn you a lobotomy a century ago. And yet, I press on. Undeterred. Undaunted. My gut is screaming. Telling me to stop with every fiber of my being.

But I don't.
I keep walking.
I move forward into insanity.

More time passes yet doesn't. The one constant paradox in the Grove other than the wheat. I move deeper into the dead forest, seeing the aqueducts looming in the distance. But there's something else. Something more... human. I hear someone yelling. It's too my right. I immediately pivot to face the sound and start running towards it. If it is another person, someone who's alive... I just need to reach them. I run and I run and I run. Getting closer to the sound. Whoever they are, they're in distress. Like something's chasing them. All the more reason to help them out.

"NO! STAY AWAY!" I hear, the voice getting clearer. Something is definitely chasing them. I just need to get to them first. But something tells me I won't. And that fear becomes realized.
"What... NO! NO, GET OFF! AHHG-" I reach them after this, but I don't get any closer... Them deadheads already got their stinkin' mitts on 'em. I'm watchin' in horror as they tear that jabroni apart and chow down. Arms get ripped right outta their sockets with these sick poppin' and crackin' sounds, and they're just tearin' into the legs like wild animals. I gotta book it, get back to the trail, but I'm stuck watchin'. Fight or flight kicked in, and I'm just standin' here like a jagoff. It ain't until them zombies start comin' at me that I finally haul ass. I ain't goin' out like that poor fuck. So I'm outta here. Back to the trail. But I trip over somethin'. I don't even wait to get back on my feet, not even lookin' at what I tripped on. Somethin' tells me it's one of them deadheads I didn't see earlier. I kin hear it bitchin' and moanin'. Good thing I kin haul ass faster than them jawns.

I make it back to the trail, breathing heavy after all that running. I need to catch my breath. I've exerted myself way too much. I just hope I managed to put enough distance between me and those zombies that they don't know where I am. That I've lsot them. Shaken them off my tail. But I get the feeling that it's futile. They'll find me eventually. Everything does here. Which makes it all the more unsettling that I haven't seen a single crow... Or Mu-

"Welcome back, Cameron."
Talk 'bout the devil and boom, there he is...

I turn around, and see Murim in his more human-looking form. The four wings, the shaggy hair and the hat. The pointed ears and the condescending attitude. No mistaking who this is: It's Murim. I can feel my eye start twitching. The one with his mark. No doubt he used it to find me. Just the thought disgusts me. I hate it.
"It's youse again... Da fuck youse want from me?" I can feel the venom in my voice. It's dripping with every word. But it has no effect on the Crow.
"I already told you. To bend you to my Master's will." His Master... Him... The little Rumpelstiltskin fuck. I'm not gonna let that happen. I feel a rock at my heel. If I can get Murim distracted... I can grab the rock and beat him with it. All I need...
"A futile effort." I hear, and suddenly, the feeling of stone of my heel is gone. How'd he... Nah. He can't just... read my mind... Can he? Aw, shit... Only thing I can do right now is run. But that's gonna be useless since he track me down like it's nothing. Regardless, I turn in my heel and run. My vision starts to blur as I run, eventually going entirely black. I don't know where I'm going now, and my hearing is slowly going to shit. All I can hear is Murim, taunting me.

"Run, Cameron. You will never be able to hide. I will find you. He will you."

|-Friday morning, March 22nd, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive-|

I wake up with a jolt. The dream... nightmare is over. For now. I grab my phone to check the time, already knowing what it's going to be when the screen lights up: three in the morning. Dat jagoff Witchin' Hour. Goddammit. Every goddamn time, I'm wakin' up at dis hour. Why? What da fuck is dat bird doin' to me? I know Murim's gotta be in on this jawn somehow. He's gotta be connected. After all, this whole thing started on Sunday when I was headin' through Virginia. Okay, just breathe man.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I sit up, taking another deep breath as I do so. I'm not gonna get back to sleep. I'm already wide awake... and I don't want to be sent back to the Grove. It's bad enough that I was actually there the other night. But the fact that Murim can bring me there in my own dreams? That's fucked up. Beyond fucked, actually. It's heinous. Foul. The kind of shit that gets you in front of a tribunal. Dat feadered jagoff... When I get my mitts on him... But what happens after that? If I take out one of His marquises... does he find a replacement? Logic would assume so, but who would take Murim's place? That's not... No. I'm not replacing shit.
'I already told you. To bend you to my Master's will.' He's trying to turn me into a proxy. What the fuck am I dealin' wit' here? Some kinda Slenderman bullshit? This ain't 2014. Get wit' the program, ya fuckin' jagoff demon. But a proxy? What exactly does that mean? Him possessin' me so He can just schlep around in my body doin' all His jawn? Fuck that noise.

I stand up and head into the bathroom. I glance into the mirror and see that my eye hasn't changed back. That Senara chick... she saw it in my eye. And she's marked too. By the Snake. What did she say her name was? Aziel? Something tells me I don't want to meet her. If Murim can be this bad... I don't want to think about that. It's something I can deal with at a later stage if it ever comes to that. I hope it doesn't. I turn to the tub, get undressed and start the shower. May as well given everything that's happened. Wash away my sins, so to speak. I let the water steam first before I hop in. Once I do... well, safe to say, I needed this. I'm not one for daily showers, but this is nice. The heat, the steam. For once, I feel protected. But then I remember that Murim knows where I am. That he can see me at anytime. Frankly, if he's peeping while I'm in the shower, it says more about him than it does me. What a perverted fuckwad.

I finish up in the shower and start drying off, catching glimpses of my pupil. Still shaped like Murim. I don't know why I expect it to change. It's not going to. Not any time soon at least. Don't think it ever will. So I best make peace with this. Just accept reality as it currently stands. I finish drying off and slip into some clean clothes. At that point, I just head back into Bo's room. Probably not a good idea with that window, but the comfort. Then I remember the feather. Yeah... No. I'll slump on the couch. I'm not in clear view of the window. I think I'll be safe that way. I do grab my phone and charger, though. For doomscrolling, naturally.

I take my place on the sofa and start going through the motions. I have my earbuds in, so I'm not making any noise. There's not much to say here. Just shit that makes me depressed and realize how fucked we are right now. But then, something catches my eye. And it's not what I was watching. It's a message from Senara. What could she want at this hour? Clearly not anything good. I tap the message to see what it is, and I feel a pit form in my stomach.

'Meet me at Long Leaf Park. I got something you might want to have.'

Oh god... Jus' when I was gettin' all chill. This mumbo jumbo jawn don't know when ta leave me the hell alone. I let out a sigh, not happy about where this is going. I then get up and head back into Bo's room. I grab a jacket, that high-power flashlight and my keys before putting my shoes on. After that, I head out the door and down to the parking lot. Once I'm outside, I feel the eyes on me immediately. Everywhere I go, I feel them. Even in my car, they won't leave me. I'm being watched, even in a place where I should be safe. I hate this. I sit here for what feels like hours. I feel around in my pockets, and I brush against the feather. I pull it out, and immediately see why that was a mistake. The second I lay eyes on it, my mind starts flying. Coming apart at the seams. It's like I gazed upon an elder god and my sanity decided to nose dive into the Mariana Trench as a consequence. I shouldn't have done this. I need to do something that can stop the flood. But what? I start combing through memories, good and bad for anything that can stop me from losing my mind. It's a blur at first, but I manage to scrounge a few things together. Just enough to keep me sane. Sane enough... to make a decision. One I'll probably regret, but if it helps stop this bullshit... I put my keys into the ignition and start the engine. I'm meeting with Senara. See what she's got for me. This better be worth the time. If it isn't, there's gonna be hell to pay. And I'm taking it to Murim. And after I'm done with Murim... I'm taking that shit straight to Him.

No mothafucka's gonna make me his chump. Not while I still got a say. I'd ratha off myself than serve some demonic jagoff.

|-Friday morning, March 22nd, 2024. Long Leaf Park, 314 Pine Grove Drive, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

Senara's here. Just as she said she would be. Let's see what it is she's got for me. I get out of my car, taking in the early spring air. Sun's barely up. In fact, I don't think I actually see it yet. Just the earliest bands of light streaking across the atmosphere, creating a blinding canvas of purple, red and pink. It'd be beautiful... If I didn't have some jagoff murderbird trying to tempt me with all kinds of demonic bullshit. I make my way to Senara, who's standing tall despite everything she's probably been through. Can't imagine what it was if she's got Aziel on her ass. Just thinking about what that snake could be capable of scares the shit out of me. Especially if dealing with Murim is going to only get worse from here on out.
"You got somethin' for me. Whatchu got?" I say as I reach her, getting the Celtic woman's attention. "Ere 'tis, me 'ansum. Make o' it what ee will, do 'ee." She says as she tosses a brown bag at me. I manage to catch it, but it's cold. Whatever is in here seems to be made out of metal. I reach in to pull it out, and I don't know what to say when I lay eyes on the thing. It's... a brooch. Or at least it looks like one. But unlike any I've seen. It's ornate, made out of stones that look more like stained glass and silver fittings and it's in the shape of a moth. And just like with Murim's feather... whatever this brooch is... just looking at it is enough to get my sanity draining. I put it back into the bag Senara tossed me and give my attention to her.

"I got no fuckin' idea. I gotta check it out later. And make sure it don't eat away at my brains neither." I tell her, not knowing what I can do with that brooch. Not that Senara seems to mind. In fact, the look on her face tells me that she was expecting an answer like that.
"Ehh, dun worry yourself. I got a few bits 'ere you can 'ave a gander at. Come to think, brought 'em with me, I 'ave..." She responds, looking over to the car she came here in. She then starts walking to the vehicle, and I follow. She opens the trunk, grabbing an electric lantern and a few books. Don't know what those could be, but something is telling me that they're related to whatever this brooch is and who it belonged to. She takes these things, turns the lantern on and heads over to a nearby table. Again, I follow.

"So... What's all this jawn? It got somethin' to do wit dat brooch thingy?" I ask, knowing that it most likely is related.
"Somethin' like that, aye. C'mon then. Dunno how much longer us 'as 'fore either o' 'em finds us out 'ere." Senara responds, gesturing that I sit across from her. I do so, making my way to the table and sitting down. With the lantern right there, I can kinda see what's on the pages of the books. One of them looks like it's about witchcraft while another looks to be some kind of genealogical record. Why would that be necessary?
"Is that a family tree?" I ask, pointing to the record.
"Aw, the ol' Die Heiliges, see. Right tragic tale, 'tis. Proper rough on Roman's immediate family, mind. Poor bugger, him." She says. Roman die Heilige... That's a familiar name. Why is it familiar? "Roman die Heilige... Didn't his family own land in Austria?" I then ask, trying to jog my memory. "Aye, Heilige Castle, up near Linz, her is. A war museum 'tis now, if I ain't far wrong. Been so since the sixties, see." Senara responds. There we go. That's why the name is familiar.
"I'm told it's haunted. How did that start?" I ask, not entirely sure why I asked.
"It all kicked off after Roman 'ooked up wi' some ol' peasant maid, name o' Elise, 'e did. Must'a been 'round... reckon 1858, I do. 'E were twenty, and she were just eighteen, mind. 'Tweren't long 'fore the spooky stuff came creepin' into the castle, see. Started subtle-like: funny noises in the dead o' night. Shadows lurkin' in th' corners, even wi' all the lights blazin'." Serana pauses before she continues speaking. "Proper 'bout three year after they tied the knot, see, Elise got herself in the family way. Twins she had, come summer o' '62, like. Goldia and Henri, they called 'em. An' from there, it just went downhill, didn't it? Elise's head wasn't right, nor Goldia's neither. Got so bad, she did, had to be took away to the loony bin in April o' '78, when she were just fifteen." That's a lot to take in.

"How did Elise respond to that?" I then ask, not entirely approving of the answer I might receive.
"Passed on, she did, when the twins were nine, see. 'Twarn't just her mind playin' tricks neither. Her body went proper pear-shaped not long after they were born, and stayed that way. No one could figure 't out, mind. By all accounts, she were healthy as could be, considerin'. 'Tis like she just... lost the heart for livin'." Is the response I get. But Senara isn't done. "Elise goin' 'n all, it proper buggered Roman up. Life went arse over tip after that, it did. Started knockin' back the booze somethin' fierce, and chasin' skirts like there was no tomorrow, just to fill that hole she left. Spennin' got so bad, his sister, Eleonore, had to step in as guardian for the twins for a bit. E ended up croakin' too, 'e did. Liver just packed up from all that booze 'e were swillin'. Shockin' 'tisn't the syph'lis that finished 'im off, like so many others in 'is shoes, chasin' maids like a proper tearaway, 'e was." Jesus... That's just... Holy fuck... But as I'm processing all of that, a few things pop into my head. One thing in particular keeps begging to be asked. Guess I better let it out of the cage of grey matter. For better or for worse, I speak.
"What happened to the twins?" I ask, wanting... needing to know more.

Senara takes another deep breath, her eyes never leaving the books.
"Right, like I said afore, Goldia, see, got took to a mental 'ospital in Linz when she were fifteen. All that bother she 'ad growin' up, it led 'er to 'aving a right mix o' mental troubles, Dissociative Identity Disorder mainly. She were in that 'ospital for a good six year or so. Got let out in eighteen eighty-two, she did." She says, eyes still glued to the pages.
"And Henri?" Senara looks up at me for once, her eyes glinting in the light of the lantern.
"No one 'as a scooby. 'E went missin' back in '73, sometime. Clean vanished, 'e did. Right into thin air." She says, after which he eyes go back to the books. So with all of that our of the way... how does this brooch factor into things? I take it back out of the bag, mind slowly going numb the more I look at it. Something is off. But I don't know what. And asking... might make the feeling worse. But I need to know.

"How is this brooch related?" I ask, eyes feeling like they're being filled with sand the more I stare into the purple stones of the moth's wings.
"That were Elise's, see. Right sure I am, 'twas hers. Her gran's originally, like. Proper plain green stone, 'twas. Not whatever... 'tis now, mind." She responds, eyes now set on the purple stained glass that is being held within my hand. It feels like it's getting heavier. It really is like Murim's feather: Something that's not meant for this world. Not meant for mortal eyes to see. And yet, here it is. In spite of it. I manage to get my eyes off the brooch and focus on Senara for once, getting my mind set straight as I do so.
"This was Elise's? How did you find it?" I ask, getting Senara's attention.
"Aye, 'twas hers. From what I could gather, she'd wear 'un all the blessed time, she would." She pauses briefly before continuing. "Found 'un, see, proper cheap in a bits-and-bobs shop way down in East London, two days afore I 'opped on the plane to New York. Wouldn' believe 'un at first, mind, 'til the ol' boy, the owner, fetched out this 'ere book." She says, tapping her finger on those old pages. "Showed me all 'is proofs, see? All the paths 'e trudged, all the dead ends. Eventually took it to some ol' boy in Linz to get it valued. That were the final nail." Well... Things just got interesting.
"And what makes you tink I want dis?" I then ask, finally putting the question out there. Senara once again takes her eyes off the books, staring right into my soul.
"See, for whatever reason... That brooch, it can keep His marquises back a bit. I dunno 'ow or why, mind you, but it do. Not foolproof, not by a long chalk, but close enough, us reckon."

Well... this is certainly an interesting development. Even if it isn't failsafe, I'll take it. If it can give me some amount of time that's safe. Any amount of time that's safe... Then it's worth it.

|-Later that morning. Randall Hall, 5162 Randall Drive, University of North Carolina Wilmington-|

Murim... That's what Cam whispered in my ear. That's what I can't say out loud. Under any circumstance, Why? Why is that a problem? I need to figure that out. And fast. I sit down in a booth and get my laptop out of my bag. I know what I'm looking for. Search engine. Start looking. It doesn't take long to find a few source, but they mostly contain information that I already know. Things I've already taken note of. I need more. I start going through the search pages, each new link taking me somewhere that only rehashes old information. I'm getting nowhere... until I see something odd.

'The Strange and Dark History of Europe'

That could potentially be something. For one, it's a blue link, not purple. Meaning that I have not been there before. Perfect. I click on the link and immediately get my notes ready. It's a lot to take in once the site fully loads. It reminds me of old, old websites from the late 90s and early 00s. It's... a bit unsettling if I'm being honest. A lot to take in. But I have to press on. Immediately, I search for anything pertaining to Germany and Austria, and find a few items. I then sift through all of those before finding... him.

Murim.
At first, it is information that I already know: That Murim is a servant to a higher power simply known as Him, can use his own forms of magic and commands his own domain, that being the Ceramic Grove of Wheat. Murim's magic can cause both auditory and visual hallucinations in his target, and can even lead them to the Grove where an unknown number of horrors reside. And this is where some new information can be jotted down:
 - Murim's magic isn't just relegated to illusions, shapeshifting and bending reality. He can reanimate the dead through necromancy. He then uses these reanimated corpses for many purposes, be it food, security or experimentation.
 - Despite being in control of the Grove, He can still assert his will over His servant's domain. Then there's one that I have been wanting to know. Verbatim, it says:
"Of all of Murim's powers, the power held within his own name is the perhaps most frightening of all. It is to never be said aloud under any circumstance. To do so is to alert his presence, and bring him to you. It is akin to taunting the Devil, an action that is ill-advised, unless your soul truly means nothing to you. As such, he is to be spoken about in hushed tones or euphemism and those alone, a sick and twisted kind of reverence that insures all parties are safe and may live to see another day."

I've heard of other monsters and beings from all kinds of places where saying the name of it can be enough to give it power. The wendigo from the stories of the various Algonquin peoples immediately comes to mind. Depending on the tribe telling the story, saying the wendigo's name or even just writing it down can be enough to empower it's spirit, allowing the beast to find and subsequently possess you. If Murim can operate like that... No. Can't let fear get the better of me. Not right now. I turn my attention back to the website, wanting to know if there is anything you can to in terms of defense. I look and look and look but come up empty. Not a good look. At all. In the slightest. In fact, I'd hazard a guess and say that is a bad thing. I don''t think I'll get any further. Not tonight, at least. So I bookmark this page and move onto the next topic. I want to find out more about this "Him" that Murim serves. So I start my search again, not finding anything at first. It stays like this for some time. I'm about to give up hope when I see something. I click the link and get taken to a new page. And it's just what I was looking for.

It's sparse. Not surprising given how little information about Him there seems to be, but this is the most I have seen. Like with Murim, it starts with points that I've already noted. But there is some new information. Information that is corroborated by other sources I have seen before. Information that I can use:
 - He requires three testaments to be granted an audience. These testaments care acquired by completing trials orchestrated by His marquises.
 - The testaments are largely unknown. No one person has been able to discern what is required, what they take or how they are made. All that is known is that it is three items to be presented as gifts for Him.
The next few things I read are once again information that I already know and have taken notes of. But with what I could jot down, it might be of some help. I just... don't quite know how. I should probably try to devise ways that Cam can use this. But I'll need to talk to him about it, and judging from the ways he was reacting when I came back last night... He's shaken. Understandable, given what he's been dealing with and what I now know. But damn... How do I even approach this? I have to be strategic. I can't just go up to him and be up front about it.

I close the tabs, and then fold my laptop before putting it back in my bag. I sit there for a few minutes before standing up, intent on heading to my next class. It's almost eleven and the building isn't that far from here. May as well get going before I'm late. So I start heading for the first floor, taking the stairs for the exercise. This is... certainly going to be an interesting two months with Cam. Maybe more than I wished for when I asked him to come down.

|-That afternoon. Crystal Pier, 703 South Lumina Avenue, Wrightsville Beach-|

I do love a good sniff o' the salty ocean air, I do. Proper pleasant 'tis 'ere. Much better'n Penzance, mind. Not that I'd say it out loud.Too proud o' me 'ome, I am. But 'ere? Wilmington? I wouldn't mind settlin' 'ere a while, no. Buh, o' course, I can't be stayin'. Wasn' even lookin' to, when I got that plane ticket, I wasn'. Need more answers, I do. Forgiveness, like. Why did she go along wi' it? Why didn' I think 'bout her needs, her wants? How could I be so selfish as that? An' why did He let me go? After I'd turned Him down proper, near to gettin' what I wanted... I just don' get it. Reckon I never will. Another one o' they tiny things, see, gonna keep 'em up all night, that. Teasin' me wi' answers I'll never get.

I take another good lungful o' that salty sea air, I will. Calmin', it is. Right relaxin', even. Helps me be at peace. But 'taint givin' up no answers, not the sort I'm lookin' for, anyways. I glances down at me phone, seein' all tha' notes I took 'til now. Everythin' I dun back 'ome in Cornwall. All tha' spots an' defenses I planned out for London. Didn' work too good, did it? Not 'til I got 'old o' Elise's old brooch, anyways. But Cam's got it now. Reckon 'e might get more outta it than I did. Seems like tha' sort, 'e does, to give it a proper go. My 'ead's spinnin' like a top, all turned 'round now, back lookin' to the sea. Reckon I best be gettin' back to that house in Lake Forest. See if I can't put a bit o' safe-keepin' in place, now I ain't got that brooch on me. Got that witchcraft book, but I'm still nowhere near knowin' why 'tis Murim and Aziel don't fancy it. Must be missin' somethin', I am. But what? I reckon I've read that book ten times over, I 'ave. What could I 'ave possibly missed? Unless... Maybe the book don't 'ave what I'm lookin' for. Maybe I need a different source. Elise, she come from Kieferburg, didn't she? I should try and find somethin' 'bout that old village, I should. Wouldn't be a bad job, no, 'specially if 't can help me get me head 'round why they'm so afeared o' that there brooch.

I be findin' meself down to one o' they libraries 'round Wilmington. Not a bad spot to start. Reckon it'll get me to better sources, if nothin' else. I'm in the folklore section, searchin' for books 'bout Upper Austria, I am. Ain't found nothin' yet, but that don't stop me from lookin', no. A bit later on, I spied summat took me fancy. 'Tales from the Forests: Lost Stories from Rural Austria,' 'tis called. Might be just the job. So I snatches up the book, heads to a table nearby, plonks myself down, and cracks it open to have a gander. Didn' take long 'fore I found summat close to what I was arter. I goes straight for the page it's on, stoppin' when I reads 'Lost Villages and Churches'. This 'as gotta 'ave somethin' for me, I reckon. So I starts readin', not takin' too long 'til I comes across somethin' 'bout Kieferberg:
'Another lost village, this one close to the border with modern Germany, is Kieferberg. Not to be confused with the German village of the same name up north in Saxony, this Kieferberg was under the protection of a patron saint by the name of Walpurga, patroness of sailors and defense against rabies. Many towns and villages across Europe bear Walpurga as their patroness, but Kieferberg was interesting, as many tales of how they venerated Walpurga seemed to border on blasphemy and idol worship. Many a tale recount of how their Walpurga was not like the woman most Catholics are familiar with. Some stories portray Kieferberg's Walpurga as a witch who abandoned her wicked ways after an encounter with the Holy Spirit nd converted to Catholicism after gazing upon the holy image of Christ. Others talk about how Walpurga's wickedness condemned her to Hell, where upon in Limbo she spent the rest of her eternal afterlife attempting to repent and find a way into Purgatory. Regardless, the debate over whether or not Kieferberg's residents were heretics would never die down. Even to this day, theologists still debate over whether the hamlet's last priest, Father Hans, was secretly partaking in idol worship at the time of his death. At this point, however, answers are not easy to come by. Kieferberg has long since fallen into ruin, it's land reclaimed by nature and the Danube's banks following the departure of it's last residents close to a century and a half ago.' Well now, that be a curious thing, innit?

Mayhap this 'Walpurga' maid 'at they did hold so dear up to Kieferberg, she's kin to Elise's brooch. I reckon I'm headin' for rough seas wi' this, but I saw His feast. Came this close to losin' me soul, 'til He reckoned to let me go, takin' 'er instead. Don't reckon things can get much worse than that, no I don't. Best I be grabbin' some notes an' gettin' on me way. Don't fancy stayin' in one spot too long, not wi' Aziel skulkin' in every shawdow, like. I know that snake well, I do. She's lookin' for me, same as always. Got her mark right here on me neck. Makes sense she'd be after me on His say-so. It's a right ol' cycle o' scorn, this is. A proper dangerous game o' cat an' mouse. One I reckon I'll lose someday, sure as eggs. 'Less I can find a way to get this blasted brand off me skin. If there even is one... Steady on, Senara. In an' out wi' tha breath. I tell ee, I feel 'e shadow creepin' 'cross tha buildin'. Not proper-like, but in me 'ead. Like some ol' nasty thing's decided ta come 'ere. She's skulkin'. Crawlin' through every crack an' corner, lookin' fer me. I knows it, I does. So when I spies them li'l beady, red eyes 'mongst the books... I gotta be off, I do. No use hangin' about, not while Aziel's 'ere. She's prob'ly already got her eye on me, she has. Reckon it's time to pack 'un up and be off. No sense loiterin' 'bout where she can get 'er 'ands on me.

Back 'ome to Pinecrest. A bit o' safety, though I reckon it won't be stayin' long. This mark 'pon me neck's like that Murim put in Cam's eye, like: Aziel can find I wherever I goes. Nowhere's rightly safe proper, not so long as this mark stays put. Dunno what I done to rile 'er up so bad, but best it be me than anybody else, seein' what it is I tried to do. Best not to dwell on that, though. Time and place for that, there is. This ain't it, not now. I spies the sage 'pon the table. Bain't worked proper good, but burnin' the herb'll give me some peace, which I'll always take gladly. Just wish I 'ad a bit o' ganja, I do. But never you mind. I'm quick-like, waftin' th' smoke 'round th' house, then off to bed. Sleep won't come easy, not with Aziel crawlin' 'bout outside. Not when she can meddle wi' me dreams. Ain't had a proper night's kip in a while, not since that night...

I can still 'ear 'er screams, I can. That wet ol' sound o' feasting, like, as He were scoffin' down every last bit o' 'er. Doan reckon I'll ever fathom why 'twas like that. Most o' what I read said if you turned Him down, like, at any point, He would respect it and be off. but He didn't respect it, see? Not wi' me. Why, though? Why was I the odd one out? This 'ere's gonna 'aunt me something chronic. For all o' my days and then some, I reckon. Best 'n' all to try and get what kip I can. Some kip's better 'n no kip at all. Even if 'tis only for a few seconds.

|-That evening. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive-|

I can't stop looking at this brooch. I know I need to, for the sake of my sanity, but I can't... I swear, I see something moving in the glass every now and then. But when I try to get a closer look, it's gone. Think I've just gotten my hands on something far worse right now. Far worse than whatever Murim is trying to do with me. Make me one of His proxies... What the hell does that even mean? And how does this brooch protect me from them? Senara didn't really say. Only that it could. She better not be lying to me.

I'm sat down outside, for once the feeling of eyes never falling on me despite the vulnerable position. I'm reading from the books Senara gave me. Right now, I've got that book on witchcraft open, and I'm not really getting anywhere with it. NOthing about how a brooch can ward away a demon. Seems more like something salt or sage is used for. And already Senara told me that burning sage doesn't exactly work the way she wanted it to. Not really helping my situation. Salt could. Maybe. Go and grab some from the store and just ring it around me. Might be worth a shot. Especially if I'm out in the woods like I was two nights ago. But then again... remembering what Senara said yesterday...
'These ain't no regular devils we're dealing with.'
Going off that... I think it's fair to say that I'm not dealing with demons. Things just keep gettin' real int'restin', don't theys?

How interesting... How very interesting... Despite having my mark and everything, Cameron has... disappeared. I can sense him, yes, but I cannot seem to see him. Could it be that brooch of Aziel's ward? The one that supposedly belonged to Elise? Perhaps. Perhaps not. All I know is that Cameron is here, but unseen. Not even the murder can see him. No smell, either. Just what is at play here? What kind of witchcraft is he employing? I can't be hers, can it? No. Surely not. That old hag cannot possibly traverse the vast ocean-sea.

I remained perched on this branch, eyes trained on the building. 4721. Humans are fascinating with how they designate residences and abodes. The meticulous unnaturalness of it. The sterile smell of the interiors. The artificiality of the lighting. All so utterly fascinating. And Aziel questions why I do what I do. I take pleasure in the torment. Coming to them where they think they are most safe.

The comfort of their homes. Where nothing horrible ever happens.

Except for when it does.

And I do enjoy being the one to cause the torment. What could it be? A poltergeist? An incubus? La Llorona? Zozo? It could be any number of things. Yet they never suspect the humble crow. Only until they see it do they begin to realize how fate has lead them down the wrong path. That is the point of no return.

Still no eyes. I guess dis brooch ting does keep 'ems away. But Senara said it ain't foolproof. I don't want to test my luck. I pack the books up and start heading inside. I feel a bit safer with the walls, but I know that Murim can find me anywhere. He put a part of himself in me. In my eye. No doubt in my mind he's trying to fine me right now. No doubt in my mind that he is in the complex this very second looking for me. None of dat's gonna shock me. Not even a lil bit. I quickly find the stairs and start moving up, the weight of the books doing nothing to keep me from heading up. And these books are heavy as shit. Each one is at least eight hundred pages thick. But it doesn't slow me down. I reach the third floor and make a b-line for the apartment.

Inside, I feel like I can breathe. These walls can provide an extra layer of safety. But like the brooch, it won't be for long. Maybe that's why Senara keeps bouncing form place to place. At least, that's the impression she gives off. Constantly moving to throw off Murim and Aziel. What'd she do to aggro the friggin' Snake, anyways? Couldn't have been good. From what she told be, Aziel isn't exactly a ray of sunshine. I would not want to be on her bad side. In fact, I wouldn't want to be on any of her sides. Don't exactly like snakes.

Still nothing. Fascinating. But also incredibly infuriating. I should be able to see him. Not even the murder can see him. Where has little Cameron gone?

"Still nothing?" I ask one of the crows gathered around me, slowly feeling the pull of insanity as this game of ours continues.

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"No sights for the master! For the master!" They repeat, the cawing an unintelligible mess for those we have not chosen. I'm sure Cameron can hear us clearly. So why can none of us see him? I know that he is here. I can feel him. Sense the beat of his heart. yet for every other intent and purpose, he is invisible. It must be magic of some kind. There is no other feasible explanation. But what kind of magic? The more I try to rationalize the idea, the more I keep coming back to that old hag. What was her name again? Walpurga? Surely not. This town is no Kieferberg. There are hardly any woodlands to speak of here. She would have no power in a place like this. Not that it matters. She never dared to openly challenge me, Aziel or our Master. I doubt that would change now. But the possibility of Cameron coming into contact with an artifact of hers... No. That would be preposterous. Yet it's the only thing to make any tangible sense. And I hate that it does. That brooch she gave him must have some traces of Walpurga's power. And for whatever reason, it is heightened in his hands. I must find a way to separate it from Cameron. Then, and only then, can my plan proceed. He will became a proxy for my Master. He will obey His every command.

Dem crahs... I kin hear 'em out there... He's lookin' fer me. He knows I'm here but he can't see me. Fer once, I get ta be da predator. Yo, but I gotta be smart 'bout this. Can't just go runnin' into stuff all willy-nilly. I need a whole jawn, a plan. I look over at Bo. Asleep. It's past ten. I don't blame him. After seeing Murim's feather, I'd want to forget about it too. Purge it from my mind. But that won't be an option. Not for me.

I take one last look at the brooch, how the purple stone shines in the light. Once again, I feel my mind start to fray at the seams as I look at the stones. The way the silver fits around the contours of the wings... How the stones perfectly fit inside them... It's unnatural. How did they change into this? From what Senara told me, this was Elise's brooch. Belonged to her grandmother and was just a simple green stone in a brass fitting. How did it go from that to a purple moth surrounded by silver? And why does it make my mind feel like this? Like I'm being drained of my sanity? It's more pronounced than with Murim's feather. Don't think I'll get any answers tonight. Or anytime soon, really.

|-Tuesday afternoon, April 2nd, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

It's been, what, a week and a half since Senara gave me the brooch? It's been... Weird. Yeah. Weird. That's one way to say it. On the one hand, the feeling of eyes on me is now sporadic. It's not a common occurrence anymore, though I do still see Murim and his crows from time to time. They just can't see me. But then there's... the other hand...

I swear, this brooch thing is talking to me.

I hear it. Small, almost inaudible. But it's there:
In the small moments where my attention is elsewhere.
In the dark when I'm positive that I'm alone.
In those shadowed corners of my psyche.
Even in my dreams.

It's a faint, feminine sounding voice. Sometimes childlike. Other times it sounds like a woman around my age. Regardless, it's da kinda stuff dat gives me da willys. I don't like to think about that. Is... Is some friggin' kid's soul stuck in dat thing? If it is, how'd dat even HAPPEN? How da hell? What kinda jawn voodoo can do dat? Jesus Christ... And then all that stuff Senara said about it... Was it really dis chick Elise's? She said it started out as just some regular green rock. How the heck did it turn purple and get all moth-shaped? Just... too many questions. And not enough time, I swear. Not that it matters. Don't think the answers would do my psyche any good.

I stand up from the couch, wanting to stretch my legs. A walk should do nice. River Road seems like a good place to go. But at the same time... I catch Bo in my peripheral. The thought keeps gnawing at my mind. Those old stories of his grand-dad's. It's tempting. Getting Bo to take me to where his grand-dad lives. Just to see if he knows anything we don't. But is it a good idea? I'd potentially be opening wounds that are over half a century old. All that shit with Murim and his brother happened back in '73. It's now 2024. I should let that man rest. Give him some peace. But if Murim somehow manages to mess with me again... I might have to shatter it. For now though, fresh air. I walk into Bo's room, grab my keys, slip on my shoes and head for the door, not looking back once.

The fresh air is nice, and I still don't feel eyes on me. Though I did see Murim up in the trees. Or at least I think it was him. Could've jut been the afternoon light messing with my eyes. In fact, the more I think about is, the more I realize that's probably the case. But there are a lot of crows out here. Murim's gotta be cheesed. Straight up heated that he can't clock me. He knows the general area I'm in. He just can't see me. And I'm playin' that jawn 'til it's done. 'Til he figures somethin' out, I'm golden. No point in worrying right now. Well, about the murderbird. This little voice in my head... That's a different story...

The woods... The secret lies in the woods.

What woods? What could that voice be talking about? Austria? No. That doesn't seem right. Maybe the Nature Park? That can't be it, either. Last time I was there, Murim somehow brought me to the Grove. Even with the brooch on me, I get the feeling that Murim would still be able to get me into his pad. I don't want to take that risk. Senara said that the brooch's protection wasn't foolproof. If I go to a place where Murim has a lot of power... that could potentially break through the brooch's defenses.

I take a deep breath. I don't want to think about that. Not now, at least. I keep walking down the pier, taking note of the boats that go up and down the Cape Fear. There are a few small islands in there. Maybe I could hitch a ride to one. Gotta be a dock somewhere, right? I walk back, heading towards my car until I see someone eyeing a speed boat. He turns to see me standing and staring. I can see the gears in his head. He knows what I'm looking for. As such, he approaches me.

"Looking for something?" He asks, voice curious but not overbearing.
"Any way to get to some of those islands in the river?" I ask in return, looking in the direction of the smaller one.
"You talking Shark Tooth? There's a launch for kayaks at the main building. Only $50 per person." He says, voice carrying strongly on the wind. "Any reason you're heading out there?"
"Just curious." I say as I start walking. Better get my wallet ready.

Arms are tired, but it was a good workout. Definitely needed. I slide onto the sand bank far enough to where the little boat can't be carried away by the current. I'll need this later. Returns and all. I start looking around at the island. It's small, but homely in a weird way. As I'm looking, I spot more crows. All huddled up in the tree tops. He's still lookin' for me. And he's still bent outta shape he ain't seein' me. Gotta be flossin' this while I still can. I pay the birds no mind, walking into the tall grass that surrounds the trees. I don't want to go too far. No telling what's in there. But at the same time, the temptation is there. See what's in the underbrush. But I also know if I do that, I may be walking right into a trap Murim's set. Again, he may not be able to see me, but he can sense me. Knows the general area I'm in. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been setting traps for me to fall into wherever I go. Just to try and get his wings on me. But I'm not stupid. It pays to be cautious. That old jawn, that real primeval sense from Africa, been savin' my ass more times than I can count since I got that brooch.

I take one last look around me: The tree-line, the shore. The current of the river as it snakes around the island. I look the ground beneath my feet. I take note of footprints and shoes. I'm not the only person who's come here and I surely won't be the last. Maybe I should start heading back. But as I look at the tree-line one last time... I notice that the crows are gone. Hmm... Usually, I'm not miffed by it, but this time... This time I feel a pit form in stomach. Not a good feeling. That's a real jawnk feelin', I ain't gonna lie. I hate it. I hate it so gahd dam much. Murim musta found a way to get 'round dis dere brooch. Which means I gotta bounce outta here. I quickly get back to the kayak, start pushing it off and dropping in as soon as I feel the boat start floating. Don't wanna push it, so I'm outta here. I start paddling, heading back to where I had come from. It doesn't take long. Only a few minutes since I'm paddling fast. Before long, I'm back at the kayak launch, But I need to play things cool. I can't look like a heaving mess. So I walk up, dragging the kayak with me as I go. I reach the building, help but the kayak back and head back to my car. It doesn't take all that long. I slide into the driver's seat, and just breathe. I gotta huff, somethin' fierce. I'm feelin' around in my jawn pocket, runnin' my fingers over the pin, through the material. Not foolproof, huh? Think I'm startin' to see what Senara's sayin' wit' that.

|-That evening. Shark Tooth Island, Cape Fear River-|

Finally. Some semblance of Cameron. This small island in the river. He was here. All arrogant and cocky. Thinking that I would not be able to see him. But little does he know... I shake my head, running my beak through my feathers as I do so. Where is she? That damnable snake? I do not know how or why Master tolerates Aziel's tardiness. What is so special about her? When we are set on the same tasks? As I ponder, I hear rustling in the underbrush beside me. Soon, I see a snake slither her way towards me.

"You're late. As usual." I tell her, the annoyance in my voice making itself well known.
"Oh ssssspare me the insssssolence, you feathered buffoon. There isssss much to dissssscusssss." Aziel responds, the annoyance in her own voice quite evident. "Why are you ssssso singularly focusssssed on this man? What doessss he have to offer the Master?"
"A great deal many things. You would know that if you had been paying attention in the banquet hall." I say, quite enjoying this witty joust of words we have found ourselves in. Though, judging by the tone of her voice, Aziel does not seem to enjoy it.
"Thisssss man isssss none of my concern. My focusssss is on the wayward vixen. The one who wasssss let go." She responds, the venom now coming into her voice.
"Ah yes. The sheep fornicator. I've seen her as well." I say in return, continuing the witty joust, much to Aziel's dismay. "Why was she let go? She pleaded for her own life, and yet He still consumed the good company?"
"I do not know. He hasssss yet to give me an anssssswer. And you have to to shed light on thisssss... Cameron. What isssss it you sssssee in him?" The question that has been levied for weeks now. And I have an answer to give.
"Cameron has potential. He has gumption. He has skill and fecundity. He would make a perfect proxy for the Master. All I need to do is break his spirit so that He may take him." I say, voice solid and stern. But it seems Aziel is not convinced, the moonlight glinting off her golden scales as she slithers around me as if she were a constrictor. It is a dance I am adequately familiar with. "Potential, you sssssay? He will be the judge of that. And He will ssssse how much of a failure you continue to be, Murim. Enough of thisssss. I mussssst away." She says as she slithers back into the underbrush. I do detest that damnable snake, but Aziel's results speak for themselves. Then again, so do mine.

I stretch my wings, intent on flight. I feel the wind beneath me, and when a good breeze is beneath the feathers, I jump. I fly north, following the course of the river. I continue this way for some time until coming upon a large naval vessel of some kind. "Battleship North Carolina" is what the humans call it. A perfect place to perch and take stock of the city that lies across the river. "Wilmington" as it is known to those that live there. Fascinating how much it reminds me of Linz. Of Austria. Surely there is some kind of connection there. I would be surprised if there wasn't. I continue to watch the city, taking in the bright, electric lights that illuminate it's streets. Somewhere within that maze of man-made stone, Cameron makes his trek to his adobe, where he thinks he is safe. But he won't be. It matters not if he has tainted himself with Walpurga's filth. One way or another, I will bring him to my Master. He will be broken and he will serve. For now, I must bide my time. Wait for the perfect moment to strike. But as I do so, a new presence fills my mind. The sheep fornicator... Senara... What could she be doing? Trying to find ways to dispatch us? Or tussling with Aziel, perhaps? I would not be surprised of the latter. That snake has quite the vendetta against her. Not that I care. Senara left the Grove with what she required. I could do nothing after that point. Even as my Master toyed with her might so bluntly.

I take flight once more, intent of finding where Cameron has disappeared to. He cannot elude my gaze for too long. I can feel his heartbeat. Smell his fear. I know when I am near him. My mark cannot be discarded so easily. Cameron will be unveiled on this night. And he will regret ever associating with Senara and the filth that is Walpurga's magic. That old hag would never stand a chance against me. Her traces will be nothing more than an insect for me to devour. And so, I fly. Towards where I hear Cameron's fearful heart beating. Such a delectable taste... I cannot wait to feast.

I perch on the roof on the domicile, the sounds from within telling me that I am close to my prey.
"I... I don't reckon that's gonna work out like that, Cam. That lil' feathery rascal's slick as snot on a doorknob." I hear someone say. Indeed, I am quite slick. And indeed, I have found my quarry. I do not hear anythign from Cameron, but I can tell he's speaking. The rushed heartbeat is a tell-tale sign.
"So, this here brooch... it hides you? I just ain't seein' how that's gonna fly. Is that somethin' or nother conjured up, or what?" Oh, how little the man knows. "Well, I'll be hornswoggled! But then... Oh, sugar... Magic's real as rain... Now what in tarnation are we gonna do with that piece of news?"
A few more seconds of silence pass before I hear a new voice enter the conversation.
"Okay... So what do we do? We still need a plan to fight Mu- I MEAN- The crow." How foolish of them to think that they can defeat me. Nothing. Nothing, can stop me when I have my prey in sight. Cameron will break, one way or another. Another few seconds of silence pass before the first voice I heard speaks up.
"Cam, what's got into you? Nah, I ain't doin' that. Paw-Paw's done been through enough of that hocus pocus. I don't wanna stir up nothin'." Why does that feel familiar? "We ain't talkin' 'bout his kinfolk."

Ah, I remember it now. What a foolish boy he was. So foolish that I don't even remember his name. A dull farm-boy who would be set off by the scantest of sights. Quite a funny toy to play with. And it was easy to lure him to the Grove. Where we would eventually meet his end. Such a shame, too. He would have made a fine proxy for the Master. But no matter. Cameron is an even better candidate. I move closer to the edge of the roof in an attempt to hear the conversation better, but it is just silence. Whoever Cameron was conversing with must have moved to someplace new. But I can still feel Cameron's heartbeat. He has not moved. He is still here. I must wait. I cannot reveal myself. Not yet. I must find a way to isolate Cameron. I cannot take risks. So I continue to wait. Until the perfect moment arrives. I wait and wait and wait. Until I hear something peculiar...

"There's gotta be something. Something I can do that will hurt Murim. But what is it?"

Such a fool Cameron continues to be.

|-Tuesday evening, April 2nd, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive Room 3G-|

Goddammit...

God... dammit...
GoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGod dammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammitGoddammit
GOD DAMMIT!

Holy shitballs, I'm a dumbass. How could I fuck up so bad? Now Murim knows where I'm at. Dis here brooch is useless right now, all 'cause I said that jawn-ass bird's name. God. Fucking. Dammit.

Alright... Breathe. I can get through this.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
A mantra as old as time. And it manages to get me calm, if only a little bit. Little fuck could be here at any moment. Hell, Murim could be here right now. Listening to everything that was just said. Fuck. Just what I needed. That jawn murderbird knowin' all my moves and how to play 'em. Fuck...

I start pacing, anxiety pulsing through me as I try to weigh my options. Gonna be real wit' ya: Things lookin' kinda jawned up. I don't know what I can do. I'm half tempted to message Senara and see if she has any ideas, but that would mean roping her into Murim's bullshit. And I don't want to add a problem onto the mountain of shit she's dealing with. I keep pacing while I mull things over, catching sight of the window. The window... I move over to the pane, locking it. I give it a pull to see if it budges and it doesn't. Good. And just to be sure, to have my bases covered, I close the blinds and reel in the curtains. I don't want that feathered fuck to spy on me. Not that it really matters. He's probably been spying on me this entire time.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I repeat the process again, wanting to have as clear of a head as I can get before I make any decision. Messaging Senara might be the only winning option here, as much as I don't want to commit to it. So I go to grab my phone, but stop dead in my tracks when I hear something hit the window. I'm having flashbacks to the morning of the 16th. When I first saw Murim. When all this started. He's out there right now. He wants me to open those blinds. But I'm not gonna. I get a deep breath in, grab my phone and head for the bathroom. It doesn't have windows. I should be safer there. For extra security, I close the door once I'm inside, at which point I start texting Senara.
'Got a problem.' I send, watching as it is immediately read. She's getting her response ready. I just know it. Those three dots keep disappearing and reappearing before Senara eventually sends her response.
'First off: You're so much dumber than I thought. Second: There might be something you can do, but it'll be risky.' Did she have to be condescending like that?
'How risky?' I then ask, willing to take risks at this point if it means getting Murim off my back. 'You'll need to come to me. Don't blame you if you decide not to. But if you want the help, that's what you need to do.' Fuck... I knew this wasn't gonna be a winning option, but this bad? Dammit. But at the same time, this might be the only thing that saves my ass. So I swallow my pride and ask one more thing.
'What do I have to do when I get to you?' I ask, not knowing what to expect. So when I read... 'Well, it involves some bloodletting. Just trust me. I'll guide you as you go. Make sure things are smooth and as painless as possible.' Aw, jeez... I just can't catch a fuckin' break, can Ise? I step out of the bathroom to grab one of Bo's pocket knives and my car keys. Knowing what I'm going to do is... Not pleasant. I don't do well with blood. Shit makes me feel like I'm gonna faint if I look at it for too long. But I can do this. I can get through this. I have to get through this.

I start walking towards the door, dread settling into my mind with the knowledge that Murim can get me now. All because I got cocky and fucked up. Royally. I get it now. When people say that complacency is the greatest enemy. And now I've got to deal with the consequences of that complacency. Fuck... Okay, think with a clear head Cam.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I step out of the apartment door, and immediately feel eyes on me from every unobstructed view. It's even worse now that I've said Murim's name out loud. Because of course it is. He knows where I am. He can find me. So I have to get moving, and quick. I don't waste my steps. I move with purpose, wanting to get to my car as fast as I can without any incidents. Every chance I get, I look around, making sure there aren't any crows. Not that it matters. Murim is watching me as I go. He most definitely knows where I'm going. Afta all, if Aziel's chasin' Senara, Murim hadda be at one point too. I keep walking, being brisk and fast until I reach my car. I quickly get the car open and slide in, closing it just as fast as I got it open. Before long, I have the engine ignited and I'm moving. But as I'm driving, I can still feel the eyes on me. They're digging into my psyche.

Taunting me. Torturing me. I hate it. I hate that jawn so gahdamn much. I was doin' good for over a week. A week! A week of not worryin' 'bout that damn murderbird. Not worryin' 'bout gettin' turned into some proxy for Him. A week where I could actually live life for once without havin' to fear bein' brought back to the Grove. And it's over. 'Cause I got complacent. 'Cause I'm a cocky dumbass. God dammit.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I keep breathing, trying to calm myself. It's working, but marginally. I focus on driving, wanting to get to Lake Forest as fast as I can. But I know Murim will also be there. He's following me. He won't let me go easily. Our game of cat and mouse starts again and the stakes have been raised. I upped the ante. Now I have to deal with those consequences. So I keep driving. What's a little blood to a murderbird? Not like I saw ponds full of it in the Grove. Not like I saw all those deadheads caked in it. A little blood being spilled is a price I'm willing to pay if it gets Murim off my ass again. I just need to make it to Senara first. After that, anything is fair game. Provided that this idea of hers works. There's no guarantee that it does. And that scares me the most.

|-Midnight, April 3rd, 2024. 105 Pinecrest Parkway-|

"Do I have to do this? Is it necessary?" Cameron's sayin', voice shakin' somethin' awful, mind. Poor 'eart. Looks like 'is little cock-up 'as fair turned 'is insides out, 'as it.
"If there were another way, us'd be doin' it, sure," I tell 'im, not chuffed about this neither. I do proper wish there was another way, mind. Not too keen on all this spooky stuff. It's a bit much sometimes, innit? But seein' what we'm up against... Don't rightly have much choice, do us? Cam's in a right pickle. Needs someone sharpish to undo 'is little blunder. Reckon this 'ere's the ticket. Somethin' to keep 'im hid from Murim, even if 'tis just for a spell. So, aye... I'm lookin' at this 'ere pentagram I've rigged up, candles flickerin' a dim light in't room – romantic it'd be, if 'twas any other time. But 'tisn't, mind.
"Got a knife, do 'ee?" I asks 'im, seein' 'ow much 'e's squirming. He do heave a sigh afore 'e answers.
"Aight. I got one rightchea in my pocket." He says, his voice still tremblin', hands all a-shakin'. Aw, the poor 'eart... I leads 'im into the circle, right smack-dab in the middle o' the star, I does. A proper dread fills me guts. I bain't wantin' to do this. But 'tis the only way forrard.
"Bide 'ere, now. Do 'xactly as I tells 'ee. Mess up so much as a 'air, an' this 'ere ritual won't 'appen, see?" I tells Cam, once 'e's in place, like. Still shakin', still fidgetin' about. Slow-like, 'e reaches into 'is back pocket for the knife, but 'e 'esitates, see? Can't blame 'im, mind. I reckon I'd 'ave 'esitated, me 'ansum. Blimey, I 'ave.
He's still a bit shilly-shallyin'. Don't wanna do 'ee. I don't wanna neither. But us gotta.
"Breathe deep, maid. You'll be alright," I says, tryin' to settle his nerves, like. Seems to do the trick, see. He's got the knife unfolded now, waitin' for me to tell 'im what to do.
"Stick out your left 'and, now," I says, watchin' 'im proper close as 'ee does as 'ee's told.
"Left hand... out..." Cam, he says, voice still a-shakin'. He brings the knife over to his left 'and, all trembly-like, eyes fixed on me, waitin' for what to do next.
"Start at the thumb crease, see? Trace that big line around it. Needs to be deep enough for blood, mind, but not so deep it hurts somethin' awful. Proper careful now," I tell 'im, watchin' as he slowly presses that blade to his skin, wincing when it goes in. Breathin' all over the place, he is. Got to fix that.
"Steady on, now. Breathin' like that, you'll cut yourself proper. Can't be havin' that, can we?" I tells 'im, still keepin' a close eye so he don't mess it up.

His breathin' eases off. Arm's movin' steadier like, but 'e's lookin' right peaky, mind. Pale as a ghost, 'e is. Can't be 'andin' the sight o' blood, I reckon. 'E'll get used to it, though. Slowly makes the cut, wincing a bit, like. But 'e gets there in the end, right up to the wrist. I give it a look-see. Deep enough, but nothin' too bad. Good. This is proper good, this is.
"Now what?" Then 'e asks, eyes waterin' just a bit, mind.
"Chuck that knife away, dip yer finger in the blood, just a touch, and grab a bit o' parchment." I says, reachin' for the paper meself. "Got to make a proper symbol with it, see?"
"What kinda jawn-ass booshit..." E starts, but I 'ad to cut 'im off, like.
"I know, I know, b'y. Just 'ee trust me, right?" I says, givin' 'im the parchment. "Follow 'long now, proper: Start at the top o' the paper, aye? Draw a line straight down to the bottom. From there, go to top left, then down to bottom right, see? After that, put a circle 'round the middle." I says, watchin' Cam's face as 'e figures it out. Right, 'e's startin' to do as 'e's told. Proper goin' through the motions, same as I said: Top o' the paper, right down to the bottom. Bit o' a trace up to top left, then bottom right afore puttin' the circle in. Then 'e looks at me, eyes meetin'.
"What's after dat?" Then he's askin', colour comin' back to 'is skin, bit by bit, like. Still fidgety, mind, but I reckon 'e's gettin' into it. Needs to be, see? Only way this'll work, that is.
"Take the paper, now, and 'old 'im over one o' they candles. But don't you be burnin' 'im, not yet. Just want a bit o' soot in the middle for now." I says, watchin' as 'e does just as I tell 'im.

"So... Whatchoo even tryna get at wit dis?" Cam's askin', see, makin' me twig I 'aven't even told 'im what this 'ere ritual be, or what it's meant to do. Reckon I best do that.
"From what I could gather, mind, it's a protection ward, like. Found it in a proper old book at one of the public libraries in the county, I did." I tells 'im, watchin' 'is eyes dartin' 'tween the windas and the sigil on the floor.
"Was the book about... the Crow?" He carries on, his voice still shakin', see.
"Twas 'bout a fair few things, that book was. Demons, shadow people, djinn, ghouls an' all. This 'ere ritual, mind, 'tis mainly for keepin' away some of the nastier demons from that Ars Goetia, but it also puts His Marquises as some o' them things that gets affected. Dunno why they'm listed, mind you. They ain't demons, far as I can tell." I says, still watchin' Cam. He don't quite believe me, like, but he knows well enough there ain't much choice. Ere, 'stead o' that, 'e gits along to the next bit. "What's the next step?" I 'ear Cam askin', keen to get this 'ere ritual done an' dusted. I takes a gander at the book in question, joggin' me memory so's we can do 'un proper.
"We need more blood, see. Ain't gonna make 'ee cut yerself again, mind. Where's the knife to?" I asks back, knowin' 'ee probably won't last another few seconds if 'ee cuts 'is 'and again. 'Ee points to where 'ee set 'un an' I moves over to take 'un. I knows 'ow this goes, but I'm needin' a cup or summat to 'old that red stuff in, I am. I fair pelted inter kitchen, grabbed a lil' glass an' filled 'er wi' water, see? Not too much, mind. Then I sliced me palm right open an' let the blood thin out in the water. Once there's enough, I went back to Cam, glass in 'and, see. I set the glass on one point o' the pentagram afore tellin' 'im what to do next. "Dip the paper in the glass, do ee."
"Okay... Okay..." E's takin' 'is time gettin' to the glass, see, dippin' the paper in 'e is. All four corners, mind. Proper guess, that was.
"Cor, 'eck! You got it spot on without me 'avin' to say a thing," I says, turnin' to 'im. "Right, now us'll burn it, us will."

I'm watchin' as Cam 'olds the parchment paper 'tween 'is 'ands, over one o' the candles. We'm slowly watchin' a 'ole burn right through the middle o' the paper, an' as it gets to the edges o' the circle, somethin' goes and 'its the window with a right loud thump. Reckon we'm bin spotted, eh.

"Aw, for the love of Pete..."
"Don't you worry yourself, do 'ee? Got the blinds down snug and curtains pulled tight. He'll 'ave to fair bust the door in, he will, to get a peek at us."
"Don't do nothin' for the nerves, ya know..."
"I knows, see. But I knows summat else too, mind." "Dat bein' what?"
"We'm 'bout to see if this 'ere ritual do be workin'."

|-Witching Hour, April 3rd, 2024. 105 Pinecrest Parkway, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

Fuuuuuuuuck...

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Whaddyagonnado?Whaddyagonnado?Whaddyagonnado?

Murim's out the window, tryna get in. What the fuck we doin' here? This jawn we just did better work. It fuckin' betta. Or else it's gonna be Senara's head. I swear on me mother.

"Now what the fuck we gonna do?" I'm askin' all rattled, my heart's thumpin' outta my chest from bein' scared an' worn out after I sliced my hand open.
"Jist tek a breath an' simmern down, do 'ee, Cam. If us stands right here in this 'ere pentagram, us shuld be safe an' sound." She starts, givin' me an answer dat just riles me up sumthin' fierce.
"We don't KNOW we're gonna be safe. Ya said it yerself: We're 'bout to see if this fuckin' ritual even works." I'm yellin', seein' how Murim's hittin' the windows harder and harder. One more smack, and one's gonna break. I can already see it. That damn gold bird flyin' around, tearin' stuff up and clawin' my eyes out. I'm keepin' my ears peeled, tryna find out where that jagoff crow is. But I can't hear 'im. It's makin' me all bent outta shape. I hate it.

"It's too quiet." I whisper, my eyes dartin' all over the place.
"I knows, see. I don't 'old wi' it, mind." Senara goes, her voice shakin' a lil'. I guess she ain't wild 'bout this occult jawn. Can't say I blame her. I'm listenin' while she's talkin', tryna figure out where this bird is at. He ain't outside... Musta duffed outta here. Unless... I start hearin' somethin' that just turns my blood ice cold. It's behind us... In the fireplace...

"Oh shit..."
"What's on 'ee mind, me 'ansum?"
"He's inna fuckin' firebox..."

I turn around real slow-like, seein' the noise from the fire grow louder and louder. Murim's climbin' down it... And he's takin' his sweet-ass time, too... The little jagoff... Da noise keeps gettin' louder 'til a whole lotta soot flies outta da firebox, followed by da sound of wings. We both turn towards it, watchin' da cloud slowly disappear as somethin' starts walkin' towards us. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... The soot finally clears up, and we see Murim, all 5'5" of him in front of the firebox. I can feel my heart beatin' outta my chest as he looks around the livin' room. He's clearly fakin' it. He knows I'm here, the jagoff. He can see me. He's just fuckin' wit' me. Murim finally turns, starin' right at me, wit' his eyes covered by dat shaggy hair o' his. Den he starts comin' towards me an' Senara, wing stretched out tryna grab us, but as he hovers over the pentagram...

sizzle
sizzle
ignition

"HMPH! My, my. How lucky and resourceful of you to have someone as treacherous as Senara with you." He goes, his wing snappin' back to his side after a lil' hiss like it hurt. Guess whatever me and Senara did, it worked. We're protected. But fuh how long? Guess we're gonna find out dat, too.
"Proper glad to clap eyes on 'ee again, Murim. Been a fair ol' while, innit?" Senara chirps back, wit' like, drippin' all over the place as she's talkin'.
"Oh, I'm not here for you. I'm here for him." Murim's tellin' her, wit' his face glued to me. My heart's goin' a mile a minute. Gotta chill out. But how? Murim's right fuckin' there. What the fuck am I supposed to do, here? I gotta think of somethin', pronto, while Murim's givin' me the stink eye. Fuck... "He will make a fine proxy for my Master. As for you..." He starts lookin' around again 'fore he settles on Senara. "You will be left for Aziel."

I feel somethin' heavy walkin' inta the room. Aziel ain't comin' 'ere, is she? Nah. That can't be how dat works.
"Like dat's ever gonna fuckin' happen, ya jagoff." I go and just blurt it right out, catchin' Murim off guard. Guess he ain't like that. Or maybe he did, and just wanna keep givin' me a hard time.
"Oh. It will happen. His will is inevitable." Murim goes, the venom makin' his voice fill up the whole room. Now we're dreadin' even harder, and I wish we could do somethin'. While I'm tryin' ta figure somethin' out, Murim decides ta try his luck again. He reaches a wing out toward me and Senara, but it starts burnin' up again. Just like when he got in here.
"Hmm... How odd. My magic should be able to dispell this sigil. This... barrier. But it cannot. I'm impressed, Senara. It seems you still have your wits about you." He goes, lettin' that jagoff compliment sink in while he starts circlin' us. It's real slow. Like a creep. And it feels wicked hateful. He hates we're safe here inna circle. Hates Senara's got the brains. Hates he can't touch me without gettin' torched. Murim keeps circlin' 'round us, his face never turnin' away. But as he's doin' that, the sun's rays start peeking through the windows. Then it hits Murim. And he hates that jawn. Oh, he hates it. He hisses and moans. Clearly, he's at his strongest durin' the Witching Hour. I quickly grab my cell outta my pocket and see the time: Six thirty in the mornin'. Eat shit and die, ya jagoff murderbird.

"You are lucky this time, Cameron. But you won't be the next time. One way or another, you will be bent to His will." Murim goes, right before he morphs into that jagoff golden crow. Then he makes a beeline for the fireplace, shootin' up it like a bat outta hell. After that...nothin'. Nothin' but my heart feelin' like it's gonna jump outta my chest wit' how fast it's beatin'. I finally get a calm breath, steadyin' myself. At which point...

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

One more time.

In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.
In through the nose.
Deep and low.
Expand the diaphragm.
Out through the mouth.

I start feeling better. Calmer. More level-headed. I take a risky move. I shift towards the edge of the pentagram, testing my luck to see if Murim is really gone or if he's just on the roof, waiting for me to make a mistake. I take one step out of the circle, and wait a few seconds. A few agonizing seconds. But nothing happens. Guess he's actually fucked off. For now at least. I then turn to face Senara, taking note of how pale fer face is.
"Hey. You okay?" I ask her, noticing that thousand yard stare she's giving at the fireplace. She then stirs, shaking her head as if she just came back to reality after zoning out.
"Aye, I reckon I'm doin' alright, me 'andsome. How be 'ee yerself, then?" She responds, voice trembling, but manageable.
"Feel like I'm about to shit bricks. Looks like whatever we did worked. Kept him at bay." I tell her, consciously refraining from saying Murim's name out loud. I'm not repeating what just happened. Not in this lifetime or any other. That's enough excitement for my day. I quickly start pacing around the room, looking out the windows to see if I can spot Murim watching from a tree. But I don't see him anywhere. Not in the tress. Not on any trashcan. Not on any rooftop. He's gone. For now. I know he's gonna try again. I'd be stupid to think otherwise. So I turn to Senara again.

"This brooch thing? Why did it... hide me from him? Well, until, you know..." I ask, wanting to know more about why these things are happening.
"A piece o' Elise, see, got snatched by some ol' witch or hag after she'd popped 'er clogs. Seems that bit were 'er gran's brooch, 'tis. Leastways, that's what I've managed t' ferret out so far, mind." She tells me, eyes never really leaving the fireplace. Why is she stuck up on that. "Some maid called Walpurga, see. Made a saint by Kieferberg, like, where Elise grew up 'n' lived 'til she wed Roman, mind. But 'pears the Walpurga they worshipped in Kieferberg weren't quite the same as the Saint Walpurga most folks reckon they know, see?" Walpurga... The fuck? No, no, no, no, no. Aint happenin' on my watch.
"Yous even thinkin' bout sayin' that the saint for sailors, the one my great-grandpop prayed to when he was out in the Pacific fightin' the Japanese, was some kinda witch, we gonna have a problem, ya hear?" I say, venom now tinging my voice. But Senara doesn't waver. Not by an inch.
"Nah, nah, nah. This Walpurga weren't nothin' like the one yer gran used ta pray to, see. Theologians reckoned them Kieferberg lot were proper heretics, they did. Their Walpurga had different roots altogether. But whether she were a witch, mind... well, that's up for debate." She responds, finally turning to face me so that this becomes a proper fucking conversation. "Anyways, from what I could dig up, 'tis lookin' like Elise was tied to Walpurga somehow, see, which led to she claimin' the maid's brooch after she passed, like."
"But why does it protect me? Why does Mu- ERM- he hate it?" I ask, restating my original question. Doesn't take long for Senara to give me an answer.
"Looks like Walpurga weren't rightly gettin' on with Him and His lot. As for why, couldn't rightly find much 'bout it. Gotta keep lookin', I reckon. But I don't think those answers are here in Wilmington. Ee should 'ead off, then. Back to yer mate's flat, see? Get some rest an' mend yourself, do ee? I'll give ee a shout if I come across owt." She then says, motioning for me to head off. I should. I'm scared. I'm pissed. But most of all: I'm tired. I need to sleep. So I start walking towards the door.

|-Later that morning. The Cordelia, 472 Azalea Landing Drive Room 3G-|

"Dag'ummit... Where at is it? I know I ain't gone and lost it. That there was my favorite knife. It's gotta be 'round here somewheres..." I'm lookin' all over my room, tryin' to find my favorite knife. I coulda swore I left it right there on the bedside table. But now it's plum gone. Just vanished. Where'd it get off to? Reckon I left it in the truck? Or did Cam grab it by accident, thinkin' it was his'n? I'll have to ask him 'bout it sometime. Anyways, he weren't even here when I woke up this mornin'. I keep kickin' around dirty clothes needin' washin' and puttin' away. Then I sift through some work papers. Even rooted through Cam's stuff, bless my heart. Where's that boy got to? He... Murim ain't snatched him up, has he? Nah, can't be. Cam's got more sense than that. He might be from north of that Mason-Dixon Line, but he ain't no pushover. Workin' construction and all. I stroll on out to the den and spot Reilly on the couch yonder. Reckon she might know where he lit out to. So, I mosey on over, fixin' to pick her brain a bit.

"Hey Reilly, got a question for ya," I say, comin' up on her.
"Yeah. What's up?" She asks me, kinda thinkin' it over. Reckon I gotta just spit it out.
"You seen Cam this mornin'? He weren't here when I woke up," I ask, watchin' all kinda faces flash 'cross her dark face. Looks like she ain't got a clue neither. Dagummit. Reckon this here's a dry hole.
"Uh... No.? Not really. I do know that he went out in a hurry last night. Is it related to whatever supernatural thing you were talking about?" Reilly's answerin' back, still ain't quite buyin' what she heard me, Maddy, and Cam yackin' 'bout last night. Can't rightly fault her, though. If I was standin' in her boots, I wouldn't swaller it neither.
"Could be, could not be. Ain't like it matters much to you anyhow. You just think it's somethin' to gawk at, don't really hold with the haints and all." I say, not wantin' to get her all riled up. We ain't known Cam but a hot minute, but shoot, he's growed on us. Mostly on account of how thick he is with Maddy. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine. Guess Reilly's the same way.
"Well, when it starts to interfere with my life, I'm gonna start believing it. And it's starting to interfere with my life. You clearly know more than you're letting on." Reilly's a-tellin' me, her eyes just a-bore right through me. I reckon I ain't fixin' to give her the same ol' song and dance I gave Cam and Maddy. Talkin' 'bout what Murim done did to my Paw-Paw just... well, it purely rubs me the wrong way, it does.
"It's a right far piece to tell. I don't know if you got the heart for it," I say, my face makin' all sorts of shapes while I'm a-talkin'.
Just as Reilly's fixin' to pipe up agin, the doorknob starts a-jigglin'. Then, dag gummit, it swings open... and Cam walks right in. He looks... He looks like he rode hard and got put away wet: eye bags big enough to carry groceries in. Got a look on his face like he's seen a ghost. Breathin' heavy as a hog. Bandage 'round his hand. What in tarnation happened to him last night? What in the world was he up to? I went on over there directly, needed to make sure he was alright. Got up to him, and he holds his hand out, and there's that knife that was gone missin', right there in his palm.
"I... uh, sorry 'bout... pickin' this up on short notice. I'll... I'll be sure to axe next time, aight?" Cam's talkin', kinda mumbled like 'cause he's plum wore out. Lord, he looks like he's 'bout to fall over any minute now. I'm surprised he made it back here like that without wreckin' his ride. He's one tough ol' bird, that's for sure.
"Lawd, where'd you run off to? What in tarnation were you doin'? Why's your hand all bandaged up?" I started grillin' him, tryin' to get to the bottom of what happened last night. There's more to this than he's lettin' on, but somethin' tells me I gotta hold my horses 'til he's feelin' a bit better to explain it right.

"Damn. Cam hit the lights as soon as he sat down. Whatever he was doing last night must've been exhausting." Reilly says, and we still lookin' at Cam. He's done gone. Cold as a well digger's backside. Look kinda peaceful, he do. 'Til I 'member all the stuff he been dealin' with since he got here, that is. Poor fella. Don't know how I'd keep from goin' plumb loco if that ol' crow was tailin' me. From what I reckon hearin' all Paw-Paw's stories, he was one right good skirt-chaser. "Sleepin' like a newborn. What in tarnation you think he was doin' all night? And I mean clear on through the night. Ain't no way you just plop right off to sleep the instant you hit the couch." I'm startin' to wonder, eyes glued to the band-aids on Cam's hand. You reckon he cut hisself on somethin' by pure accident? Or was it... on purpose? My mind's wanderin' back to how he handed me back my prize knife. Nah... No, no, no. That just ain't hittin' right. But then again... considerin' what he's goin' through... That there occult stuff might just be what he's gotta dabble in. If nothin' else, just to make it through.
"Don't know. Must've been intense. And dangerous. Just look at that bandage. Looks like it needs to be changed." Reilly says, kinda noddin' that she wants to switch it out for somethin' clean. Part of me's sayin' to wait 'til Cam's awake and got his wits about him. But shoot, them bandages do look like they need a-changin'.
"Let's try not to be too hard on him, ya hear?" I say, headin' towards my bathroom to grab that little ol' first-aid kit I got. Never thought I'd be usin' it for this, bless my heart. I went ahead and snagged that little red box yonder and moseyed on back to the settin' room. Popped it open and grabbed some bandages whilst Reilly went to fetch some water. Then, we easy-like peeled off them old, dingy rags that was wrapped 'round Cam's hand, and wouldn't you know it, there was his boo-boo.

"Woah, that... That definitely looks deliberate." She says, takin' it all in.
"Yeah... reckon it does..." I said then, figurin' my little hunch was right. That's when I seen Reilly turn towards me outta the corner of my eye, lookin' a little queasy and kinda put off.
"You don't... You don't think that he's..." I reckon I know what she's gettin' at. Better nip that notion in the bud 'fore she gets too far down that road.
"Naw, not a bit. He musta done it for some other reason," I tell her, tryin' not to get her all riled up. Seems to work, 'cause her face kinda softens. But she's still a little bothered. I can see it. And shoot, can't say I blame her none. "Reckon it had somethin' to do with that there bird been tailin' him. Might be Cam had to do somethin' right drastic to keep him outta harm's way. Just a notion, though," I said, just puttin' it out there.
"How long until he wakes up? Before Maddy comes home from classes?" Then Reilly asks, all worried-like. I shore do hope he comes to his senses 'fore she gets back home. Can't rightly imagine what she'd be doin' if she seen him like this. I start wrappin' up his hand with that bandage, Reilly makin' dang shore it's all good and clean 'fore I do.
"Ain't got no clue. Could wake up in a quarter hour. Could be five hours. But it oughta be 'fore Maddy gets on back. Her classes usually keep her over yonder at the university 'til 'bout seven, at the very least."' I go on, windin' that bandage 'round Cam's hand, makin' shore it's snug so it stays put.

Got the bandage slapped on, and Cam's still sawing logs, just kinda twitchin' now and then. Must be dreamin' somethin' fierce. Reckon I don't wanna know what's goin' on in that head of his. But that ain't the half of it. I already got some notions brewin'. I'm parked right here at the supper table, keepin' an eye on Cam passed out on the sofa, then lookin' over at Reilly settin' across from me, and then that ol' picture she snapped over yonder in Austria that one time. Always did give me the willies, that thing. Just felt... funny, somehow.
"You reckon Heilige Castle's tied up in any of this mess?" I ask, 'fore I even give it a second thought. Reilly just gives me this look, bless her heart. A real peculiar lookin' at me.
"Uh... No.? Can't see how a supposedly haunted castle in Central Europe is at all related to what Cam's dealing with." She goes, soundin' kinda flustered, like she done forgot what she was worried 'bout before.
"Just a thought, now. This here gold crow... I was doin' some readin' when I first come on down here from Burgaw. Turns out he's from 'round Central Europe somewheres. Leastways, that's where most the tales 'bout him come from." I start in, tryin' to lay out my thinkin'. "Reckon he might be part the reason folks think they got a haunted castle. Maybe them Heiliges cut some kinda deal with this bird and it done turnt 'round and bit 'em."
"I mean, that does make some sense. If you in believe that kind of thing, at least. But... I don't know, Bo. Still seems kinda far-fetched. Heilige Castle doesn't really scream 'demon den' to me. More like 'urban legends'." Reilly answers back, her voice kinda quiverin' ever' now an' then. She then goes to say somethin' else, but the words just won't come out. Don't rightly matter, though. We hear a noise comin' from the sofa, an' we both jerk our heads 'round. Looks like Cam's done woke up. Best to get some answers outta him.

|-That afternoon. Hiro Japanese Steakhouse, 222 Old Eastwood Road-|

"So what happened? You leave in the middle in the night and come back almost twelve hours later looking exhausted and with a bandage on your hand." Reilly asks me, taking a bite out of her udon after the question is put into the air.
"Do you want the long answer? Because you're not gonna believe me." I tell her, knowing that I won't get helped or be taken seriously. Til Bo decides to open his yap.
"Shoot, I reckon we'll both take your word for it just fine.' He says, which gives me the go ahead to spill the details.

"Can't say his name out loud. It empowers him. Draws him to you. And that's exactly what my dumbass did last night." I say as I pull the brooch out of my pocket. I take one look at the purple stones in the wings, and hear that little voice again.
You need to go... The woods... Salvation is there...
"This brooch can supposedly hide me from that damn murderbird. Worked well for a week and a half. But then I got cocky. Or stupid, depending on your point of view." I keep going, paying no attention to that little voice or how much just holding the damn thing seems to be draining my psyche. "Met someone about two weeks ago. Seems to have been through some similar shit. Immediately contacted her to see if she could help. She told me to meet her and bring a knife."
"So that's the reason you snatched it up..." Bo says without thinking, cutting me off before I can keep going. But he doesn't speak any further. Reilly is completely silent.
"Did some weird ass ritual. Needed my blood in order for it to work. She told me to cut my hand, one small incision at the base of the thumb." I continue, not getting interrupted any further. "He then burst into the house we were in. Tried to grab me. Started burning his wings when he hovered over the pentagram." That gets their attention.

"I'm sorry, pentagram? Is this woman you met a satanist?"
"Well, bless my soul..."
I look at both of them, then the brooch, then to my bandaged hand. I then look outside. Crows. A lot of them. But I don't feel their eyes one me. Guess the brooch is hiding me again. Better keep it this way. Don't want to repeat what happened this morning. And then I hear that little voice again.

Do not worry about them... Focus on finding the answers that you seek...
That... sounds like it's in my head. I don't think Bo or Reilly can hear the voice. Guess I can entertain my insanity: What's in the woods? Do you mean the Nature Park? I go back there, Murim might drag me back into the Grove.
So long as you have this brooch with you, Murim will not be able to find you. Provided you do not say his name.
Yeah, I figured. But what's out there?
I cannot tell you. You need to find it yourself.
Well that's less than helpful...

I return my attention back to Reilly and Bo, who are now looking at the brooch. Seems like it's draining their sanity too. Not a good sign.
"Who's brooch was it? Because it looks old. And why do you have it? Things aren't adding up here, Cam." Reilly asks, eyes going between me and the brooch.
"Senara told me it belonged to one Elise die Heilige. But official reports state that her brooch wa-" She cuts me off before I can finish the statement.
"A simple piece of jade in a brass casing. That looks like pieces of amethyst in silver. Can't be hers." Reilly says, her face taking on a visage of disbelief.
"It's what I was told. Apparently she got caught up with a witch when she was younger. That witch took this brooch as her own after Elise died. Changed it..." I start saying, knowing that if I mention the voice that they'll try to get me committed. I take one last look outside. The crows are gone. The feeling of eyes may not have been there, but I still feel that dread. That dread that started all the way back in Virginia, when I first sighted Murim. "Turned it into this." I say as I put the brooch back into my pocket. Whatever thing is in there, it's latched onto me. I'll need to ask Senara about this at a later date. But whatever that voice is saying, it seems adamant on me getting back out into the Nature Park. But that... That just seems like suicide. I can't go through with that. Not without a plan. I know that if I've got my brains on me I'm effectively invisible to Murim. He can sense me, but he'll need to actively look for me. I can use that to my advantage. I'll think of something.

Sun's gone down, and I'm back in the Nature Park. Flashlights are on me, but I've also got my hammer. Murim might not be able to see me, but I can see him. And I know he can't see me because the feeling of eyes is not present. Just like it wasn't when I got back to Maddy's apartment after I left Senara's pad. Still need to ask her about that voice, though...

Best to not wander. Increases the chances of Murim finding you.
I doubt it. So long as I don't say his name out loud, he won't be able to see me.
That may be true, but the power vested in this brooch isn't permanent. It ebbs and flows.
Well fuck.
You need not worry. I will warn you ahead of time.

That's enough of that. Just checking into that conversation was taxing. Still not sure if it even happened. If that voice is real. Doesn't matter. Not right now, at least. Focus on tripping up Murim. Get the jump on that murderbird, And it doesn't take long for the signs to appear: I hear crows all around me. Just as I thought. Murim can sense me, but neither he nor this murder can see me. Best to start fucking around while I can. No telling when the brooch's magic will start to wear off.

caw
caw
caw

They're so god damn loud. Do they ever shut up? Must be talking to Murim. Going on about how they can't find me. I bet Murim is pissed. I know I would be. I keep walking though, I don't want to be in one spot for too long. But the cawing doesn't stop. Before, it would be terrifying. Now? It's just fuckin' annoying.

caw
caw
caw

They're still going. Still trying to find me for Murim. And still failing. I'm still in the clear. But something feels different. The air's changed. I can't quite explain it. It's not pleasant. Not at all. Maybe the brooch is wearing off temporarily? No. If that was the case, the little voice would've told me. Said it would warn me ahead of time. So why... Why does the night feel oppressive now? Is Murim out loo-

He is hunting. Be careful.
Who? Murim? Is that why things got depressing?
Yes. Look up in the trees. Shine your light there.

I decide to follow the voice's advice and point the high-powered flashlight into the canopy above me. I don't see anything at first. But after a few seconds... I catch a glimpse of something. Whatever it was, it reflected the light back at me. I wave that cone over the spot I think I saw it, and sure enough, I see glints of gold. Murim... I immediately cut the light, letting my eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.

What do I do here? I'm not gonna just climb a tree and grab him.
Oh no. Don't do that. You wouldn't last a minute in an altercation.
Well thanks for the encouragement...
Wait. See what he does. I don't think he saw you. The light, maybe. But not you. He probably thinks it was someone else out in the night.
Kind of a dumb assumption on his part. Haven't seen anyone else out here.
Touchée. But you can never be too safe. Not when dealing with Him and His servants.
Him... Murim repeatedly says he wants to make me His proxy. Why? What does that even mean?
I don't know. It could mean any number of things for any number of reasons. His marquises aren't exactly known for clarity .
Less than helpful... Again...
Not intended.
I know...

I clock out of that, the sound of branches snapping and wings flapping catching my attention. Murim's on the move. I listen close, trying to figure out where he's going. The wings stopped almost immediately. Could be on another branch. Could be on the ground. No telling unless I go and look. So I do. I search for Murim, inverting our predator-prey dynamic as I reach for my hammer. As I search, I hear thumping on the ground. Almost like footsteps.

Hide. Guards.
It could also be Murim and not a cop.
That is true... But getting arrested doesn't seem like a good idea. Especially out here.
I think we'll be fine.

I follow the sound of the footsteps, taking care to not make too much noise as I do so. As I keep moving, the footsteps slowly stop, and I hear someone talking to themselves.

"I just don't understand..."
crunch
crunch
crunch
"How can he become so elusive so quickly? It must be that brooch. It has the hag's stench on it, after all."

That's Murim alright...
Be careful. One wrong move and he may see you.
So long as I have this brooch on me, he won't. Speaking of...
What?
Who's this hag he's talking about?

I don't get an answer, not right away. But that's not important. Because I get a good look at Murim. He's in his more human-like form, wandering in circles as he tries to find me. I just need him to turn his back to me. And when he does...

crunch
crunch
crunch
crunch
crunch
crunch

I sprint towards the murderbird, hammer at the ready. I'm making a lot of noise, and it seems to get Murim's attention, but it' a bit too late, since I've got the hammer above my head...

swing

I bring it down, hard, only for it to not hit anything. Instead, I tumble onto the ground. Shit. Must've been one of those illusions I read about. I quickly get to my feet and dash away, wanting to find some cover before I do anything else. But As I move, I trip over something. I quickly get my flashlight on and shine it on whatever I raked, and see a skeletal arm. God dammit...

|-Wednesday evening, April 3rd, 2024. Brunswick Nature Park, 2575 River Road South-East, Winnabow, North Carolina-|

Fuck, fuck, fuck....
Just what I needed, goddamn. Another deadhead thanks to Murim. That bird-brained jagoff...

I quickly get to my feet, making sure I'm not in that skeleton's grip. Once I'm up, i get my light on it. Aight, dat's a bonehead fa sho. A bonehead pokin' outta da mud. I reach down, strategically getting those bony fingers off my ankle before I stand. Once I'm sure I'm free, I stand, still keeping my flashlight on the spot. Looks like it's just the forearm and hand. But how is it articulated like that? How did it grab me? All the muscles and tendons are gone. There's nothing connecting the bones and joints together. And I know I didn't just run into it like that. It had to have moved, closed it's fingers around me in order for me to trip over it like that.

I keep a safe distance from the arm. Knowing Murim, it's probably there because of him. Him and his necromancy. I fully expect the entire skeleton to rip itself out of the ground and start chasing me. But for now... it's immobile. The arm doesn't move. It doesn't clench. It doesn't stretch. It just stays there, looming over the leaves and between the ferns. I don't like this. I take a small, tentative step towards it, and bring the hammer down.

CRACK

The arm shutters as the hammer head makes contact with the hand. Bone fragments go flying everywhere as I quickly retreat, eyeing the spot closely to see what happens next. One second becomes two, which then becomes four. That becomes eight which soon after becomes sixteen. Nothing. Sixteen doubles into thirty-two. Before I know it, a full minute passes, and still nothing. And that... That terrifies me more than the damn thing popping out of the ground. The silence. The stasis. The inertia. The nothingness. I know for a fact that Murim is using this to taunt me, even if he can't see me. And I also know that he heard this. If ever there was a way to let him know where I am...

Wait...
Wait up a sec...
Murim prolly heard dat...
I could use this to my benefit...

I immediately start banging a tree with the hammer, making as much noise as I can. I start hearing that little voice as I do so, though...

What are you doing? You'll bring him to you.
As long as I don't say his name, he can't see me. I can use this.
You can't just attack one of His marquises.
Watch me.

I keep banging on the tree, pausing every so often to listen to my surroundings. Nothing. Not yet. So I resume hitting the tree, hitting harder so that it's louder. If that doesn't get Murim's attention... Well... There's only one option after that and it's one I'm not taking. Cuz fuck dat jawn. Ain't gotta be choppin' myselfs up just to hide from that fuckin' murderbird. I pause again, listening close to see if Murim is near. I hear rustling in the canopy above me. Could be Murim. Could be one of his crows. Could be neither and it's just a random owl. It ends up being that last one when I hear it hoot. Sounds like a barred owl. I should record it. Give Maddy a little game to play. Yeah, that's a good idea.

I hear something else above me when I finish recording the owl. It's not hooting. Hell, it's not making any sound whatsoever. I quickly start looking, but I keep the flashlight off. I don't want to scare away whatever it is. I know it's above me. But where? I take slow, tentative steps so that I'm not making too much noise as I move. I find a spot with some good coverage and sight lines, and from there I see glints of gold in the moonlight. Murim... I swing my hammer and hit a nearby tree. It gets his attention, and he flies down to investigate. I can hear him say something as he lands. "Hmm... How curious. That sound is man-made. Yet I see nobody. Fascinating..." I slowly approach from behind. Don't know why. He can't see me. I take those slow, tentative steps so that I don't alert Murim any further. Slowly... I creep towards the murderbird... Inch by inch... until...

lunge

I burst forward, and this time, I feel something tangible in my hands. I've got him. I... I actually grabbed him. Holy shit. Murim shifts and writhes in my hands trying to free himself from my grip. But I'm not letting go. Not anytime soon.
"Get your... Hands off me!" The bird shouts, still trying to wiggle out of my hands. Of course, he ain't got no clue it's me dat got 'im. Karma's a real bitch, Murim. And I ain't lettin' him live dat down. After a few more seconds of the little jagoff struggling and me attempting to strangle him, Murim manages to break free. But he doesn't fly. No. He shifts into his humanoid form, something that throws me back into a tree.
"HMPH! FUCK!" I shout as the back of my head strikes the trunk. Murim starts looking around, as if he heard it, but doesn't know who said it. I can feel my heart start pounding in my chest as that hair covered face of his turns in every direction. But then I remember that he can't see me.

Don't.
Won't stop me.

I quickly scour the ground and find my hammer, where I then take another swing. I run up, arm raised and bring it down. But I miss. Murim moves out of the way just in time. Damn. I recover, notably not tripping over a skeleton and wind up again. Arm raised. Hammer comes down. This time... I hit something.
"AH! Who has the audacity to strike me is such barbaric fashion?!" Murim shouts as he folds back one of his wings. I use this opportunity to get another swing in. Like the last one, it connects. I hit Murim in the abdomen, causing him to stumble back and shift back into a crow, where he then flies off. Presumably scared as shit.
"Youse a straight-up glass jaw! Don't be givin' it if you can't be takin' it, ya jagoff!" I shout as I watch Murim fly off like a coward. But then I remember that Murim can't be beaten that easily. He is one of His marquises after all. That kind of position gives him a lot of power. So I quickly put my hammer back on my belt and start heading out of the woods. I need to get back to Maddy's apartment and rest. Preferably before the sun starts coming up.

I manage to make my way out of the woods. I'm on a familiar path. Past some of the brush I can see Town Creek. I look right. That gets me to the main road. So I start walking down it. I pull out my phone to check the time. One thirty in the morning. Damn. Thought it would be the Witching Hour considering how long I've been out here. I make my way down the dirt path and turn left. That takes me to parking. Not too long after, I find my car and get in the driver's seat. Key goes in, gets turned, and the engine hums as I start pulling out. Before long I'm heading back to Wilmington. Back to more security. Safety. Maybe I can head to a library and read up and ways that I can fight Murim. The hammer was effective, but I know it won't be for much longer. Not after tonight. Then again, Murim don't even know what chooch hit 'em...

|-Thursday morning, April 4th, 2024. The Cordelia, 472 Azalea Landing Drive Room 3G, Wilmington-|

I ain't fixin' to do it...
I ain't fixin' to do it...
I ain't fixin' to do it...
I ain't fixin' to do it...
I ain't fixin' to do it...

I shore don't wanna bring this up to him. I really don't wanna bring this up with Paw-Paw, bless his heart. But it's lookin' more and more like I ain't gonna have much of a say-so. I glance over at that air mattress. Cam's knocked out cold. Ain't shocked, considerin' the last couple days. I'm lookin' down at my phone, starin' at Paw-Paw's number. Still ain't sure 'bout this. But if we gonna get Murim off our case... reckon I gotta do it. I got the nerve to mash that button. Screen goes to callin', and it rings a spell 'fore Paw-Paw finally answers. For a fella born back in the fifties, he's right handy with this here tech. Kinda takes you back, seein' as he lives way out yonder in the sticks.

"Whatchoo want, Bo?" Paw-Paw says, cool as a cucumber, when he answers the phone. Though somethin' tells me he already knows why I'm ringin' him up.
"You 'member them old tales you used to spin me?" I say, wantin' to just tear this here band-aid off and get it over with quick-like. It was a few heartbeats of quiet 'fore the ol' feller spoke up agin, his voice kinda shaky, but not much.
"You reckonin' 'bout that ol' crow? What you askin' 'bout him fer?" He pipes up next. I kin tell he's sweatin' bullets over yonder. How do I bring this up now? How do I do this without stirrin' up all that mess? Just gotta yank off another band-aid, I reckon.
"It's, uh... A buddy's havin' a spot of... trouble..." I say, my voice shakin' like a leaf, kinda fadin' out here and there. But I manage to spit it out. And Paw-Paw seems to be takin' it all in, judgin' by how quiet it is on the other end.
"He messin' 'round wit' that ol' biddy? What kinda bidness he gettin' into? You done tole him 'bout them tales, ain't ya?" Ain't no venom in his voice. Just... disappointment. I knew better than to be callin' him...
"Wasn't by choice, I swear. You know how that thang runs. The Crow just picked him." I say, rememberin' every lil' thing from them stories. How Murim will just up and pick his next one on a whim. Just 'cause he feels like it. Cam ain't no different. The Crow just saw him and figured he'd be a good one to mess with. Wrong place, wrong time, I reckon. "Shore wouldn't wanna be in Cam's shoes right now, bless his heart."
"You ain't fixin' to haul him up here, is ya?" Paw-Paw's just a-sayin', ain't got no meanness in him, just pure disappointment. And Lord have mercy, that cuts deeper than if he was mad as a hornet. God almighty...
"I know, I know... I'm just... reckon I jest don't know what else to do for him." I start mutterin', knowin' it ain't gonna change his mind none. Paw-Paw's always been tough as a pine knot. Was back in the late '60s when he met Mee-Maw. Still is today. And the reason he's like that? Murim, plain and simple. Well, ain't this just a doggone mess...
"Fo' days. Fo' days is what yaw got to fahgure this mess out by yaself." He says. A deadline. Gotta wrangle Cam's mess all by myself. Don't rightly know if I can, though...
"I'll try," I say back, knowin' that's just askin' fer trouble. Them's fightin' words, practically. Ain't gonna make it to the 8th, not with the fix Cam's in. Yeah, he's got that there brooch doodad. But how long's that really gonna keep him outta the briar patch? It's got holes in it, don't it? Bound to fail sooner or later. 'Cause of... well, you know, all that fancy learnin' and such. Entropy. Any contraption you got's gonna go belly up sooner or later if you leave it be.

I let out a big ol' sigh, knowin' Paw-Paw could hear it clear as a bell, judgin' by what he says next. "Ain't no tryin' 'roun' here, Bo. You gon' do it, or you gon' fall flat on your face." He speaks, voice a little wobbly from bein' up in years, but still got some grit to it. The silence is thicker than molasses, but then his voice fills up the line again.
"Y'all fall flat, and I reckon I'll see what I kin do to lend a hand. Can't rightly promise nothin', mind ya. I been tryin' to cook this crow for nigh on fifty year, and I ain't no closer to fixin' it than your buddy yonder."
"I reckon... I reckon..." I say, startin' to get the feelin' this here talk's 'bout done. Quiet. Strained-like. Quiet. The kind I can't abide. 'Specially not from Paw-Paw. But he finally pipes up one last time.
"Ya'll be keerful now, Bo. You know what dat thang kin do. Don't ya go 'head an' underestimate 'im, ya hear?" Then he slams down the phone, and Lord have mercy, I gotta catch my breath.

Suck it in through my nose.
Deep down in my belly.
Hold it a bit.
Let it out slow through my mouth.

I reckon I'll do that again, lookin' to clear my head.

Suck it in through my nose.
Deep down in my belly.
Hold it a bit.
Let it out slow through my mouth.

I glance over at Cam again. Still knocked out cold, 'til I hear him moan a little. Reckon he's finally comin' to.
"Who... were you talking to..." He's a-talkin', yawns and all, makin' it 'bout near impossible to understand a word he's sayin'. But I manage to hear 'im out anyways.
"Paw-Paw." Is all I let on. Ain't tryin' to show my hand just yet, not when we got a spell to get this figured out. Cam jest kinda grunts after that 'fore rollin' over, lookin' like he done gone back to sleep, judgin' by the sounds he's makin'. Good. This quiet's a blessin'. Gives me time to think things through. He mentioned that conjure woman when he got back last night. Reckon she might could be of some help. Don't rightly know how much they been jawin' 'bout, but it's worth a try. Anythin' to keep from stirrin' up them old hurts. I can't hardly imagine what Paw-Paw's gonna have us doin' if we don't get this mess sorted out.

Suck it in through my nose.
Deep down in my belly.
Hold it a bit.
Let it out slow through my mouth.

One mo' gin. Jest one mo' time.

Suck it in through my nose.
Deep down in my belly.
Hold it a bit.
Let it out slow through my mouth.

I done laid back, starin' up at the ceilin', tryin' to figure out somethin' we could do. When Cam's got all his marbles, I'm gonna tell him 'bout this here phone call. My little chat with Paw-Paw. Four days... That's all he's givin' us. We best be usin' that time somethin' fierce. It's gonna be a humdinger, I reckon. But... But I think we can pull it off.

Suck it in through my nose.
Deep down in my belly.
Hold it a bit.
Let it out slow through my mouth.

One more time, I reckon.

I turn back to Cam again. He oughta be wide awake in, shoot, 'bout forty minutes. Once you wake up the first time, ain't no use tryin' to get back to sleep. Lord, I done spent many a mornin' just like that. Best to just get on with it. But Cam? Now, he's somethin' else. Builders move on their own time. I look back up at the ceilin'. Murim... Just what all did you go and do to my great-uncle?

|-An unknown time, His banquet-|

These guests... So noisy. So very noisy... I simply do not understand why these guests must be so talkative.. Nor I don't understand how Aziel or the Master can stomach the noise. It leaves so much to be desired. All I want is some quiet so that I can think about ho-
"Sssssilence your chatter, Murim." The snake says to me. How very dare she. Interrupting my thoughts in such a crass manner. "Keep your thoughtsssss to yourssssself."
"My thoughts? Excuse me?" I say, offended by Aziel's accusation. "My thoughts are only voiced when asked."
"Isssss that ssssso? Then why have you been mumbling to yourssssself all evening? Are the Massssster'sssss guessssstsssss that bothersssssome?" She continues to prod. What does she hope to gain out of this? The Master's favor? Surely not. This must be art of some kind of vendetta. But again: Why? The answer never comes as Aziel slinks away, having transitioned into her serpentine form. Good riddance. I do not need her assaulting my sense alongside this quarrelsome rabble the Master calls guests. Speaking of...

Where has He gone? Did He leave so early? He's never one to disappear so quickly after finishing His meal. He usually stays to bestow His gift upon our guest of honor. How queer. Very odd. I look around once more. No sight of my Master. I stand. I take note of the hall. The noisy guests have dispersed. It's just me in the banquet hall. And for the first time in centuries... that solitude is oppressive. I do not like it in the slightest. It's grating. It's irritating. It's... passive. Far too passive.

I begin to pace the hall, mind racing with ideas of just where my Master could have gone. He isn't tormenting someone in their dreams, is He? No, my Master has had his fill. He cannot possibly be doing that. Not when someone has so thoroughly pleased Him with His testaments. So the question remains: Why has He vanished? I simply do not understand.

I continue to search for my Master in the castle, looking in places where I suspect Him to be. But He is not there. He is not anywhere to be found. Strange. Perhaps I should give up on this endeavor. Return to my Grove. After all, I do have a man to torment. A man to break and a man to mold. Oh Cameron... You sly fool... I being my march out of the castle, quickly shifting into my more avian form upon realizing flight is far faster than walking. The air feels smooth under my wing, all in spite of the injury I had sustained earlier. Just who would take such a risk? Certainly not Cameron, the sad, scared little boy that he is. Yet that unshakable feeling... Of Cameron's heartbeat in the woods... I could feel it. Sense that he was near. That he was there, lurking in the darkness.

I continue my flight, feeling magic buzz around me as the barrier between domains becomes thin. After a few seconds, I find myself flying over an unfathomably large field of wheat. One field with impossible turns and non-euclidean architecture. Such a fascinating term. Non-euclidean. So fancy. So... bourgeoisie. Yes... I would describe the grove as non-euclidean. It certainly follows nothing that could be described as parallel.

My flight continues unobstructed... until I see something odd. A small figure on one of the many ruined aqueducts that track across the Grove. I know this figure. It is my Master. I slow my pace, not wanting to startle Him for any reason. I eventually reach Him, perching by His side before announcing my presence.
"My Master." I say as I shift into my more humanoid form. He does not move. He does not acknowledge me. Not through any visible means, at least. The silence stretches until He finally speaks.
"Why are you so fixated on this... human, Murim?" He asks me.
"I believe he would make a good proxy for you, my Master." I respond, gauging His reaction as best I can before he speaks once more.
"A proxy? For what purpose? I have never had need for a proxy. Not when you and Aziel are satisfactory in your roles." He says, still not turning to face me. This is something I had not considered. I have been so focused on breaking Cameron that I had not stopped to think about the how. What role could he potentially fill? How can I answer this question that my Master has posed to me?
"I... will need time to ruminate on the thought, my Master." I say after some deliberation. It is now that He turns to face me, hair swaying briefly to where I can see His singular, golden eye before it is once again covered up.
"Time may not be on your side, Murim. From what Aziel tells me, the Celt aims to collude with him." He says, once again looking out over my Grove. "How will you deal with that variable, I wonder."
"Separate them. Separate Cameron from the former desiree. Aziel can take her for all I care." I say in response, watching my Master once more to see His reaction.
"And what of this 'Cameron'? How do you plan to bend him to my will?" Is the response I am given.

"I present him with the truth." I tell my Master. "The unalienable truth. That human life means nothing in this world. That in the grand calculus of the universe, the ape's mind and viewpoint is insignificant. Nothing more than a scant moment on the timeline. If even that." I watch as my Master continues to observe the Grove below in that twisted and stoic manner of His. Silence hangs between us before He takes a deep breath, turning to face me once again.
"The truth? That is how you will break him? And what if this plan backfires? What if... he fights back? As he has been doing?" He says, golden gaze piercing me from behind his hair. I think back to my injured wing. The place that it happened in. Of course. Of course it was Cameron. Who else could it have been? Who else would be so brazen? So audacious? If I am to break Cameron and bend him to my Master's will, then I must find a way to separate him from that damnable brooch. That lingering stench of Walpurga that has found it's way here to this New World with the Celt. It must be dealt with.

My Master turns back to the Grove, saying nothing. This conversation has ended. One moment, He is there next to me. The next... He is gone. And I am left alone with my thoughts. The truth... What comes after that? What becomes of Cameron once his mind is shattered and crushed? How will my Master make use of the man? Questions, questions, questions... I feel it will take some time to find answers for them. One thing is for certain though:

I have chosen quite the quarry to be my prey.

|-Thursday afternoon, April 4th, 2024. Museum of the Bizarre, 201 South Water Street, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

"Aight, so we's back hea, huh? How 'bout dat..." Cam starts talkin'. I reckon he's got... a hankerin' and a hesitatin' 'bout this here place. But if we aim to get some answers... We might just have to mosey on back. Long as that li'l exhibit's still kickin' 'round, anyways. Two more weeks, they say, 'cause folks just can't get enough. Ain't that somethin'...
"Maybe we overlooked somethin'. Maybe that curator fella knows a thing or two." I pipe up, tryin' to 'splain myself, but Cam ain't bitin', plain as day. We mosey on up to the museum door, and I already got a hankerin' somethin' ain't right. Feels like somethin's got its eyes on us. Can't say who or what though. And it ain't a good feelin', not one bit. But me and Cam, we press on ahead, goin' straight for that little feller. For Him. I'm just hopin' we can git somethin' outta this mess. We stood there gawkin' at the display for a spell 'til we reckon we caught somebody's eye. A woman with blue hair moseys over, lookin' like she wants to pick our brains.

"Anything we can help you gentlemen with?" She looks at us, eyes dartin' 'tween me, Cam, and that there display. She finally lands on Cam, figurin' she'd ruther hear it from him than from me, bless her heart.
"Who put up this display?" He asks her, his voice the steadiest it's been the whole dang time he's been 'round here. Her eyes dart back to that little contraption 'fore comin' back to Cam.
"Uh... Let head in the back to check. I know it was someone from Europe." She says that 'fore she takes off walkin', headin' to the back or whatnot o' this here museum. Takes her a minute or two, maybe, 'fore she comes back out with another woman right behind her. I reckon this here other woman's the one that put up this little spread. She sees me and Cam just standin' there lookin' all teetotaled. She eyeballs us up and down 'fore moseyin' on over.

"Grüß Gott. I am told zat you vanted to meet vis me?" She's talkin', got that German twang somethin' fierce. Shore ain't used to speakin' English all that much, I reckon. This here's gonna be somethin' else.
"Uh... reckon so?" I say, not rightly knowin' what all to say here. She squints at me, them gray eyes a-doing their thing as she sizes me up. Then, she takes a good holt of air.
"Well, if you two vill come vis me." She says, turnin' on a dime, and motions for me and Cam to come on. He's the first to budge, lookin' to get it done with. So, I reckon I got to hoofin' it. 'Fore long, we done ended up in somethin' that looked like an office. Small and kinda homey, or as homey as any office gets, I reckon. First thing I seen was a whole heap o' books piled up on the desk. Betcha they was 'bout some kinda old-timey stories from, you know, Germany or Austria way. Then, the woman, she grabs one of them books and flips it open 'fore she goes and sets her down.

"So, vat vould you gentlemen like to know?" She goes, lookin' at Cam whilst I'm checkin' out the name tag on the desk. It says 'Heidi Wasserman'. But I ain't got no time to sit and ponder on that 'cause Cam chimes in.
"What else do you know about that display? Not really a lot of information to go off of." He's fixin' to just tear that band-aid off quick-like, he is. Short, sweet, and right to the point. Just what I'm used to from him, bless his heart. Heidi glances at Cam, then at the book, then back at Cam. I kin see the wheels spinnin' in her head. She's tryin' to figure out what to say. She takes a big ol' breath and finally pipes up.
"Zere is a bevy of places ve could start. Zis book, for example." Heidi pipes up, pointin' at this book she's been porein' over. Me and Cam, we both glance down at it. Lord have mercy, it's somethin' else. Mostly stuff I just can't make heads or tails of. Shoot, lookin' at some of them pictures and whatnot just makes my head swim. Feels like I'm fixin' to lose my ever-lovin' mind the more I look at it. I finally look up and meet Heidi's eyes.
"Now, what in the Sam Hill is all that?" I ask, hopin' to get some answers out of her. She glances up at me, then back down at that book. She stares at it for a spell 'fore lookin' back at me.
"It is... Wie ma des ausdrücken tät... I don't vant to say 'demonology' because ze subject of ze display is no demon, but... It is ze closest zing zat one can describe Him as." She finally goes, pointin' to a picture of Him in the book.

The sight of it... Lawd, I don't rightly know how to put it. Not how He looked, 'cause that's plain as day. He looks like a young'un wearin' rags, hair all down to His mouth, kinda hidin' His face. It's... somethin' else, though. Like He's watchin' me and Cam right through that picture, through the book there. Speak'n of Cam... he's sweatin' like a sinner in church. I see his eyes goin' all over the picture, then all over the page, takin' it all in. But then they stopped... and I reckon I know why. Just waitin' on Cam to say it now.
"The Crow..." He's a-mutterin' somethin' under his breath. I take my eyes off'n him and follow where he's a-pointin'. Don't take long to see it: Murim. That dang ol' crow. Heidi sees what we're lookin' at, and she gets all curious-like.
"Ah... ze Crow. You know of him?" She goes, lookin' dead at Cam. He don't look back, though. His eyes stay glued to that there picture of Murim in the book. He just can't seem to peel 'em off it. "Somethin' like dat..." He's a-mutterin' somethin' under his breath. He figures Heidi ain't gonna hear him, but she does. Now, the question is if she'll believe him when he says he's been havin' to do with that dadgum Crow ever since he lit out for Wilmington. Reckon she might. Reckon she might not. Ain't but one way to know for sure.
"Vere did you first hear about him? Out wis it. Ka Notwendigkeit, scheu zu sein." Heidi says, just a-wantin' to hear it straight from Cam hisself.
"Yous wouldn't even believe me..." He answers back, soundin' all tore up about it.

Heidi, she takes another big ol' breath, lookin' dead at Cam, who finally gets his eyes off that there book. Makin' hard eyes at somebody. This ain't gonna end good, I reckon.
"Zere are a lot of zings I can believe, mein Bursche." She tells Cam, face serious as a heart attack. Cam, though... not so much. He's all fidgety. He's shakin' like a leaf on a tree. Ain't good. Not one bit.
"If I said dat murderbird was chasin' me?" He answers, lookin' Heidi square in the face, he does. She kinda squirms a bit, lookin' back and forth between Cam and that there book. I reckon he's done got her. She's plum bamboozled. Don't rightly know what to say. Takes her a hot minute 'fore she starts talkin' again.
"Ze Crow is... Di verfolg'n? Chasing you? How interesting." She done finally answered back. I ain't sure if it's 'cause she's nosy, wantin' to know more, or if she just don't believe it. I'm leanin' towards the last one, just goin' by how she's carryin' herself and makin' faces. But it could be somethin' else. Some folks is good at hidin' stuff, coverin' up what they really feel, you know. "And vy do you zink he might be after you?" She then goes and asks Cam. Which reminds me: Has he figured out yet why Murim's so dadgum hung up on him?
"Don't know. All he tells me is to make me one of His proxies. Whatev'a the hell dat means." Cam answers back. Reckon he still ain't figured it out. Doubt he ever will. But then Heidi up and speaks again.
"I seh's. I seh's... I didn't zink zat you vood know. No offense, of course." She says, swingin' 'round in her chair to grab another book. I only caught a quick peek at the cover, but from what I could see, it looked like it's about some kinda folk tales and ghost stories from out west in Austria. Reckon we done struck gold comin' here today, judgin' by this new thang. I can only guess what Cam's thinkin' 'bout right now. "Ze Crow is a tricky vun to pin down. Unlike ze Snake, he is... More blunt, to say ze least. Aba trotzde, he can still be quite visholting." She says, crackin' open the book and flippin' right to a page 'bout Murim. Shoot, it's just 'bout ever'thing we could've hoped for: Where he come from. What he looks like. What he can do. Why he do it. How he's connected. The kind of critter he is. How Cam ain't got a holt of somethin' like this 'fore today is... Well, I reckon I just don't rightly know.
"Holy shit..." That's all Cam could come up with, didn't even bat an eye 'bout the cussin' he just let loose. Heidi just kinda chuckles. "I feel like such a jagoff right now..."

Heidi jes slides that book right over to us. It's like she knows Cam's gotta work this thang out for himself. Like she can see whatever's been buggin' Cam in his eyes. Like she sees it and feels for him, bless her heart.
"Here, take zis vit you. I get ze feeling zat you vill need it more zan me." She says, then motions for us to git. Me and Cam just look at each other a sec, then he reaches out and grabs the book, pullin' out a little piece of paper and foldin' it up like a homemade bookmark, stickin' it right there on the Murim page 'fore shuttin' the book. After that, we start moseyin' on.

|-That evening. 105 Pinecrest Parkway-|

"Hold on now, lemme git this straight: They ain't no demons? What the Sam Hill you talkin' 'bout?" Bo 'e says, all riled up an' annoyed, judgin' by the way 'e's talkin'. Can't blame 'im, mind. Didn' want to believe it neither, me 'ansum. But then I started diggin', see? Best get to explainin', I reckon.
"Hard to swaller, I knows. But that book's tellin' the truth, Bo." I tells 'im, me eyes flittin' 'tween 'im an' Cam. 'E's right caught up in it, proper. Guess 'e's workin' 'is way through all sorts o' plans to fight Murim. Dunno if most o' 'em'll work out like 'e wants, though. That Crow, 'e's a right tearaway, mind. Lucky for 'im 'tis Murim chasin' 'im. If 'twas Aziel... e'd be six feet under first night, 'e would. She ain't fussed 'bout makin' folk His proxies. She just wants 'em to suffer something awful. I should know, aye... Memories flood back, they do, rubbin' me neck, feelin' that raised skin where Aziel's mark be. Wish I could be rid o' it, I do...
"Well now, if they ain't demons... what in tarnation are we gonna do? How we gonna... ya know... SCRAP 'EM?" Bo's askin', voice all het up still, see? He tries to say more, but the words, they just won't come out. But never you mind. Seems Cam's been listenin' the whole blessed time, 'e has.

"They might not be demons, but any jawn that keeps demons away still seems to work on 'em." 'E sez, eyes glued to th' book 'e got from th' museum, see? Dunno what's goin' on in 'is 'ead right now, mind, but 'tis bound to be summat worth a go. Leastways, that's 'ow 'e figures it. "Still nothing on what He or His marquises are, though. Book doesn't really seem to have answers to that."
"'Ere, what's it sayin' then, Cam?' I asks 'im, managin' to get 'is eyes off the book an' over 'ere for once. First time since 'e's opened the bleedin' thing. Proper job. We can start chattin' now, us can. His eyes darted back down to the book, afore comin' back up to me an' Bo, see. That's when 'e starts speakin', mind.
"From what I've read, the two most prevalent theories are that they are either different kinds of imps or 'shadow beings'. Take that information however you will." He's explainin', see, catchin' Bo's ear. An' 'tisn' lookin' proper good, mind.
"Ain't imps little devils?" He's askin' Cam, mind, not trustin' 'im right off. Cam's about to say summat, but I stops 'im afore the words get out.
"Imps, see, they only started gettin' mixed up with demons 'round the 16th Century. 'Til then, they was always seen as forest spirits, more like the wee folk. Proper fairies, like. 'Specially in Britain an' Ireland. I'm Cornish, me 'ansum. Us 'as got plenty o' tales 'bout pixies an' that, us 'as. Not that it matters much, mind. In old German tales, demons weren't always bad. But then again: We ain't dealin' with demons here, are we?" I says, gettin' 'em both lookin' sharpish. "Nay. We're dealin' wiv summat else entirely, proper. Truth be told, I don't quite rightly understand 'em meself," I say, thinkin' on how little I truly know. I watch Bo and Cam havin' a proper think for a few seconds 'fore Bo speaks up.

"So what's the move? We done with salt circles? Reckon holy water won't do 'em no good?" 'E asks, voice all trembly now. I goes to say summat, but Cam gets there first, 'e does.
"Salt can still repel them. Certain sigils and runes, too. Don't know about holy water, though..." He starts up, keepin' a proper eye on Bo's face. Once he's certain the redneck's payin' heed, Cam carries on. "Have to use... well... you saw the bandages on my hand. I think you get the idea." He goes on, watchin' Bo's face turn proper grim again. Reckon he's gone and reminded him o' our little lark the o'er night. Bo don't say a word. Not for a bit. He opens his mouth, lookin' like he's tryin' to say summat, but naught comes out. Takes a few more seconds, mind, but he finally finds his voice.
"So how we gonna fight 'em? If there's even a way to do it, that is." ’E’s off then, ’e is. Don't know a bloody thing, does ’e? How we gonna tell ’im without makin' a proper fuss? Reckonin' on ’is business with Murim... Is it even wise to tell 'im, is it?

"Dunno. I ain't sayin' nothin' bout that. But you can hurt him." I 'eard Cam sayin'. 'E... 'e went and hurt Murim? How's that then? What was 'e up to? This proper job, I swear... 'e's gonna get 'imself killed, 'e is.
"What in 'ell were 'ee doin', then?" I asks 'im, tryin' to get the proper truth out of 'im.
"Brooch keeps me hidden, remember? Used that to my advantage. Snuck up behind him and smacked him with a hammer." 'E starts goin'. A hammer? A hammer? That's all 'e used? No fancy magic then? No silver bullets? But a hammer? THAT'S how Cam did Murim in? Just proper old blunt force, is it? You must be bloody jokin' me... Proper job, it's that simple? Why wouldn't it be then? Occam's Razor and all that codswallop. Just go and batter them marquises, plain as day. Why didn't I think of that? I'm lookin' proper at Cam, tryin' my best to get the truth out of 'im. "Wot were 'ee doin' then?" I ask, keepin' my voice steady, even if I be feelin' a bit proper tense.
"Poking around the Brunswick Nature Park after hours. Started banging on trees. Got the Crow's attention. Brooch didn't like that, though. Told me to stop."

Wasson he sayin'? The brooch proper talked to 'im? I... No, proper not. 'E's tellin' lies, 'e is. That brooch can't...

"The brooch... talked to 'ee? You sure you ain't gone completely 'addle?" I ask 'im, still can't believe it. Bo looks proper stunned too, can't believe 'is ears.
"Cam... listen... a brooch ain't gonna talk, Cam. I reckon you're fixin' to go plumb crazy." I hear Bo sayin' that, mind. But Cam don't lookhin' at all bothered or low, he don't. Instead, he's just standin' there, lookin' back and forth 'tween the two of us.
"I know what I said. Dat pin is yappin' to me." He starts up again, lookin' back and forth 'tween the two of us, 'fore he carries on. "It's like... It's almost childish, but... Not a young girl. More like a young woman. And she doesn't know where she is." 'E starts goin', I... what's I meant to say to all that, then? How? What's the answer? I can't just take 'is word for it, can I? I'll be needin' proof, me. I wanders over, hand out, wantin' to grab that brooch back for a sec.
"Gimme that, then. I need to hear it proper meself." I tell 'im, noddin' for 'im to pass over Elise's old brooch. Cam's havin' a bit o' a pause, though. He's steppin' back from me, he is.
"I don't... I don't even know if you're gonna hear it." He says, lookin' proper unsure. I give 'im a proper glare for a bit, an' that gets 'im to let go o' the brooch.
"I'll give this back." I tell 'im, holdin' it up to me ear. But there's naught to hear. I hold it there a bit longer, thinkin' if I keep quiet, I might catch a sound. But naw. Naught comin' from that brooch at all. I turn back to Cam, lookin' at 'im proper fierce, like I'm aimin' daggers straight at his brain. He's havin' a laugh, he is. 'E's gotta be.
"What kind o' codlins is this then?" I asks 'im, proper cross, you can hear it in my voice. But Cam's just gawpin'. Not at me, mind, but at the brooch. Reckon he's hearin' summat. Proper wanker, 'im.

"Whoever's in dere ain't trustin' you none after dat." He's goin', actin' like he's heard summat again. I glance o'er at Bo, and a thought comes to me. Reckon he might get summat from this little brooch, then. So I waltz on up to 'im and hand it o'er, settin' it soft-like in 'is palm. Me and Cam, we just watch as Bo holds it up to 'is ear for a few seconds, we do.
"I ain't... hearin' a lick of nothin'." Bo goes on, havin' a swap o'er to the udda ear. A few more seconds o' quiet passes 'fore he speaks up again. "Aw, come on now... I ain't gonna hurt ya..." Proper time goes by, but Bo gives in in the end. He wanders over to Cam and hands the brooch back, lookin' right defeated, he is. "I reckon you're fixin' to lose your mind, Cam."

Cam holds that brooch up to 'is ear, an' listens proper close for a bit. Far longer than me or Bo did, mind. He stops now an' again, givin' the stone queer looks. Right then, I'm thinkin' he might actually be hearin'... somethin'. But what somethin' that might be, I can't rightly say. Not 'til he speaks up, anyway.
"You-" ’E says, pointin' right at me, ’ee. "Doesn't quite like you. Bo, on the other hand..."'Is eyes wander 'round an' land right on Bo. "It's conflicted. Doesn't know what to think of him." Quiet settles 'round the room again, an' this time, it's stickin'. It's proper awkward, too, mind. So much so, I'm thinkin' one of 'em's lurkin' right 'ere, waitin' to pounce. Aziel... Murim... don't matter none. One of 'em's a right proper headache. Then Cam takes a deep breath, stands up, and looks straight at me, he does.

"I'm out. Brooch sayin' the Crow is wit' us."
Properly reckon there's no rest for the wicked, is there?

|-Friday Witching Hour, April 5th, 2024. Oakdale Cemetery, 520 North 15th Street-|

I sensed something. Something foreign yet familiar. It wasn't the stench of Walpurga, though I did smell the hag in that house. Cameron must've been nearby if I could smell her. Him and that brooch. No... This is a different scent. One that Aziel may be for familiar with: The Celt. Of all times to visit the dead... Senara chooses this hour? Does she not know the time? Irrelevant, I suppose. Compared to the grand scheme of things. Compared to my schemes. Perhaps I can strong arm information out of her. It's always worked beautifully before. Why think otherwise now? I scan the gravestones, eyes straining to see anything that they can I spot movement far off in the distance, blured by shadow and motion. Perhaps that is her. There is only one way to truly know.

I take flight, removing myself from the branch I had perched onm feeling the wind beneath my gold wings as I soar through the night. I follow my senses, wanting to see what that movement was. As I get closer to it's origin, I see clearly that it was, indeed, the Celt. She is sat on a bench nearby. I can be crafty. I can be... hidden. I land on the nearest branch in near total silence, the only sound being the wind rushing form beneath my wings and leafs rustling above. Senara is none the wiser.

Or so I think...

"Think you're proper clever, do'ee?" I hear her say. There's no possible way she saw me. Not with how little light there is. I stay silent, not wanting to give away anything to her. I will merely observe. But she continues to rant, regardless.
"Proper smart, you are. Right clever, too. Proper sneaky, mind. It ain't like I didn't spot 'ee the minute I stepped through these graves. You can't be hidin' from me." She mumbles to herself. She can't possibly be referring to me.
"All this proper bother. All this skulking 'round. What's it all for, then? I ain't worth a penny to 'ee." She continues mumbling. I suppose she still blames herself for what happened seven years ago. She pleaded and pleaded and pleaded for my Master to take her instead. Yet for whatever reason, He didn't. He took the good company, but did not bestow His blessing upon Senara. Quite the odd situation. Even to this day. I constantly argue with Aziel as to why the Master made such a brash decision. Is it because He saw something in Senara that we couldn't? Perhaps. But just as plausible is that He simply wanted to see a naive young woman suffer. The rant continues.
"An' now 'as you a fresh prize, then. A new target. New prey. Someone else for you to be meddlin' 'bout with. 'As 'e'll end up like me, then? Or 'as you got summat else planned for Cameron, Murim?" She turns her head to look directly at the branch I am perched on. I am top stunned to respond in any way. How? How did she know where I was? I could've sworn that I was silent on my approach. "Speak up, ye daft cunt."

An insult of that caliber is to be taken seriously. I remove myself from this new perch and fly to the ground. I land in front of Senara, underneath a street lamp, it's light reflecting magnificently off my golden feathers.
"How crude. How disrespectful. How... abhorrent of you, Senara. I never took you to be so profane." I tell her, letting the woman take in my avian form for a few seconds before I continue on. "You should be grateful that you still live. Others in your position were... not so fortunate.
"Nought so lucky? Proper lucky, they were. Had their bit of peace, even if it cost 'em their lives. Got their sweet rest, even if they're stuck in BIrealm for eternity. But me... you've gone and taken it all. Left me naught but a shadow of who I were. What kind of devilry you think you're playing, you little scamp?" She responds, eyes gleaming with daggers as she speaks. Seems the memories are... not to her liking. Not that I care all that much. I hop around, light continuing to gleam off my feathers and into her eyes. A distraction. But one that is seen through. "Wha' you wantin', Murim? Proper knows you can't do nuffin' to me, an' that."
"Where is Cameron? What is he planning? And what kind of audacity have you filled him with?" I ask her, getting to the point so I do not have to wallow in her smell for longer than I have to.
"I'm tellin' thee naught. If I can keep one soul from His sight, then proper so be it." She says, voice rough and edged. But ti is a useless ploy. For as little as I can do to her, what with Aziel's brand being on her neck, it also renders her incapable of doing much to me. So in lieu of physical coercion, a witty joust is what will be required to extract the information that I want.

I continue to hop around, eyes darting from Senara to the surrounding graves. Perhaps I could raise some of the dead that have been interred six feet under these grounds. Use that as my leverage. 'Refuse to cooperate with me, and you will be torn limb from limb.' But that would be too easy. And too messy. Someone could potentially see the altercation. I'd rather avoid causing mass hysteria.
"Hmm... of course you'd say that. But I have my ways of getting what I want." I tell her, red eyes gleaming into her soul. I remember much about Senara. Every one of her little insecurities. Those same insecurities I, Aziel and ultimately the Master preyed upon. Perhaps those could still be leveraged. "Perhaps a chance at redemption. To truly achieve what it is you desire."
Senara stands. Her anger is evident. I have struck a nerve. Good. Exactly what I wanted. "How many times arr we gonna play this game, then? I want naught to do wiv you. Wiv that Snake. Wiv His 'blessings'. I'll burn that damn bleedin' castle to the ground if I must, or I'll die tryin'."
"Oh, you will certainly die trying, Senara. You know that He cannot be fought. That He is immovable. That He is unstoppable." I tell her, twisting the knife ever so slightly. I then sit and gauge her reaction. It is... not what I was expecting it to be. That rage is still there, yes. But it is more... focused. Senara begins to walk towards me. I know what her intent is. Is she really that foolish? One step after another after another. Until she is standing right in front of me. I look up, and then shift form. "If I can't do anything to you, what makes you think you can do things to me? That brand works both ways, you know." I tell her, stretching my wings to their full span in a show of intimidation. I am now seriously considering raising the dead. If for any reason than to further intimidate Senara. But if it is required...
"And you reckon I'd 'fargot that... why? I ain't as daft as you're thinkin', Murim." She says, staring me down. But I remain unfazed, even as her gaze intensifies. "I might not be able to do owt to 'ee. But Cam surely can. Reckon, what happened 'tother night then?"

I take one step towards the Celt, noting how she doesn't flinch like she used to. She certainly has grown bolder... But it won't save her here. There is one thing I could potentially do. Something that would ensure she stops being a thorn in my side for future endeavors. But would it work? How would one with two marks operate? If two marks can be applied? I know they take the other's place. But this... Ah, to hell with thinking. Let impulse take over.

whoosh

"AH!"
I swing around a wing, the golden orbit at it's mid point briefly making eye contact with Senara. I hear her grunt in pain, and when I see her again, she is on her knees, clutching her face. But she simply laughs. As if she expected this to happen. How fascinating.
"You're a right proper cunt, you know that? But I reckon nuffin'll come o' it, proper." She says as she gets back to her feet. Oh, how foolish of her. Thinking that she is safe. While Aziel's brand remains on her neck... my sigil has re-appeared within her eye. Good. Very good...
"Always sleep with one eye open, Senara." I say as I shift back into my avian form. I then fly up to the nearest branch, watching as Senara tries to make sense of what has just occurred. She looks around, trying to find me. but then, she takes out a little black box, and peers at herself in it's obsidian like reflection. I then hear her laugh once more. this time, it is more cynical. More... defeated. Like she realizes how futile her efforts are.

"Properly so. Of COURSE. Of bloody COURSE. I'm as daft as he reckons, then. Now I'm fair game for 'im again, ain't I? Proper interestin' to see how it goes. Maybe this nightmare can finally be done with." She turns slowly, still laughing to herself as she does so. "Proper job, Murim. Thee little scamp." She then begins to walk away. Towards that house that no longer offers her protection. Not like it ever did.

"Yes. I agree, Senara. This will be very interesting." I mutter to myself as my murder gathers around me. They already know their orders: Follow Senara. See where she goes. Who she interacts with. And importantly: Hwo she can lead me back to Cameron. My Master is more than willing to see how he can operate as a proxy, after all.

|-Friday morning, April 5th, 2024. North Carolina Museum of History, 5 East Edenton Street, Raleigh, North Carolina-|

The air in here is crisp. Too crisp. It almost tastes sanitized. But I guess that's what I should expect from a museum. Wit all dese artifacts dey got hangin' on the walls. I turn to Bo, who's looking at and admiring an old musket that's hanging on the wall.
"Why are we here again?" I ask him, still not sure why we drove four hours to Raleigh from Wilmington. It's gonna be a long drive back…
"I got a friend internin' down here. She knows her way around Native folklore, so I'm hopin' she can lend a hand." He answers, eyes never leaving the musket. "Hmm… Looks like it's plumb from the Mexican-American War, or somethin'... Nah... ain't that one. Reckon it's a mite older. I'm plumb terrible at tellin' these muskets apart." I leave Bo to that, but not before asking another question. "Does she even know we're here?" I watch as he turns to face me.
"She oughtta. Told her last night we'd be a-comin'." He responds as he starts walking. I follow, and we eventually find ourselves next to a display that looks like a recreation of a street in the 1890s. I look at one of the signs. "Durham: Renowned the World Over" is what it reads. I wonder what for…
"Tobacco. Durham got big on tobacco right after the war. It was Brightleaf they was a-sellin'." A female voice says from behind me and Bo. We both turn around and see a woman who doesn't look to be much older than both of us.

"Kasey. It's good to see ya." Bo says as he approaches her, getting her in a hug for a second before letting her go. "This here's Cam. He's a buddy of one of the folks I live with."
"Good to see ya. Bo mentioned your... troubles, so to speak. I can't promise nothin' for certain, but I'll do what I can to lend a hand." Kasey says as she outstretches her hand, wanting me to take it. I do, giving a good grip as I shake.
"Well, it'll be better than nothing." I say, chuckling at the absurdity of everything that has been happening to ever since that night in Virginia. I let go of Kasey's hand, taking a deep breath before I speak up again. "Anywhere private we can go? I'd rather not talk about it out here."
"Ain't no trouble. The intern offices are up on the fourth floor. Just follow right after me." She says as she turns on her heel. Guess I ain't got no choice, draw?

"So this... Crow's been doggin' ya since Virginia? Reckon that's somethin'. If you're sayin' he's more 'bout them European folks, then why in the world are ya askin' 'bout Native folklore?" Kasey asks after I give her the rundown.
"Covering my bases, I guess. See if there's anything that Native Americans potentially had to protect themselves." I respond, still unsure if this will work. Kasey looks over her desk while I shift in my seat. Bo just stares out the window, watching as birds go by every now and then.
"Now, for them Native folks, crows stand for a heap of things. Some tribes reckon they represent how life and death go 'round in circles, seein' 'em come and go with the summer and winter seasons. 'Cause of that, them folks see crows as a plumb bridge between this world and the next." Kasey starts, pausing briefly just to make sure I'm paying attention. "Now, that goes right back to how crows are plumb always hangin' 'round dead things, pickin' at what they can 'fore they take off. Reckon it ain't much different from how folks over in Europe look at 'em, thinkin' they're bringin' death 'cause they're stuck loiterin' 'round graveyards and carcasses. But that ain't the only thing them Native tales got in common with them old European stories. Y'all know Odin, don't ya? The Allfather and king of them Aesir folks in them Norse myths?" She asks. Kinda goofy question, but it's whatever.
"Uh, yeah. I'm familiar with it." I respond, not sure where Kasey is going with this.
"Odin’s got himself two ravens. Ain’t crows, but they’re kin, I reckon. Huginn and Muninn. They act as his eyes ‘round these parts. Now, that’s ‘cause them corvid birds are mighty smart. That’s why a heap of Native folks ‘round North America look at crows like they’re tricksters, just like them coyotes. But they ain't just fooling ‘round; they can be messengers or even change their shape. Some tribes say they use that to play tricks on folks. Sometimes it’s kindly, but other times... well, not so much." She says, taking a deep breath as she gauges my reaction. "I can tell this here... is fixin' to do somethin' for ya."
"That's one way to say it…" I respond, looking out the window just like Bo. Must be my lucky day, because a crow goes right by it. Could it have been Murim? Maybe. Could've also been one of his murder he sent out trying to find me. Wouldn't be surpised by either.

I take another deep breath, not happy that we didn't get much information today, but still glad that it's something. Though, one thing is nagging at the back of my mind.
"How did Natives best crows when the tricks were malicious?" I ask, watching as Kasey mulls over her desk again, unsure of what to make of the question.
"Don't reckon I can do you much good. I'm just a greenhorn around here. You'd best go ask one o' them curators, though none of 'em knows much 'bout Native American folklore just yet. And we ain't fixin' to have nobody who does for a good long spell. Come May, this whole place is gonna be shut up tight for four years 'til 2028 'cause they're fixin' to do some big ol' renovations." Kasey says in a defeated manner, eyes going down to her desk as she gets the words out.
"Now look, Kasey, what you told us was better'n a kick in the pants, but I reckon we can find folks or some other way to get a hand with this. No shade intended." Bo says, getting Kasey's attention as he speaks.
"Oh, no offense taken. Truth be told, I was fixin' to suggest that same thing. I'd start on down at the State library. It's right a piece from the museums, just a hop and a skip across Jones Street." Kasey says as she points in the general direction of Jones Street. "Just git through North Wilmington and you'll be fixin' to be fine."
"Thanks. Even if it wasn't much, it's still nice information to have." I say as I stand up, heading for the door. Bo follows suit, but not before telling Kasey goodbye.
"I'll see ya 'round. Hopefully not too much longer." He tells her.
"Me too. Reckon it was good seein' y'all again, though. Y'all take care now." I hear Kasey as as we exit the office and start walking down the hallway. I then turn to Bo, several questions in my mind wanting to be asked.

"You think we'll find anything useful at the library?" I ask, starting my first round of questioning. "Hard to say. Might happen. And if it does, it’ll be a real blessing. So let's just pray there's somethin' for us there. If not, we might have to head on over to NSCU. That James B. Hunt Jr. library is a whole lotta space. Reckon it's a third bigger than the State library." He says, giving us another option in the process. James B. Hunt Jr. Library, huh? We gotta go check that out.
"So that's the plan? If we don't find anything in the state library we head over to NC State and peruse through the campus library?" I then ask, watching as Bo's face goes through a few emotions before he answers.
"That’s the long and short of it, yeah. Like I told ya: NCSU’s library is plumb huge. If we can’t find it at the state library, we’ll find it over there for sure. Always good to have a backup plan, don't ya reckon?" He responds, giving me a sly smirk as we reach the elevator.
"It's good to have multiple backups. But in our case, one should be enough." I say as I punch the button for the ground floor. The elevator hums to life as we start descending, slowly making our way down as we continue our conversation.
"I still don't reckon why you were lookin' for all that Native American folklore. We already settled that this crow's from over in Europe." Bo says, eyes looking up at the floor indicator.
"Like I said in her office: I want to have my bases covered. Anything that could potentially help,I'm taking it." I respond as we reach the ground floor. The doors open and we step out, making our way to the front doors and outside.
"I hear ya. But them Natives, they see things a whole different way. Plus, they don't go fixin' to mess with nature much at all. They're more inclined to just live alongside it." I hear Bo say as we step outside, taking in the warm air of mid spring into our lungs.
"Maybe they knew something we don't." I tell him as we start walking towards North Wilmington Street. Kasey wasn't lying: The state library is just right there.

"Okay, so we cross Jones here and then cross North Wilmington." I say as I plan out how we're going to reach the library.
"I reckon I'm fixin' to agree with ya." Bo says as he hits the button on the stoplight. Within a few seconds, we get our signal to cross, where we then repeat this process on the next light. Before long, we've reached the state library, but we linger outside for a few minutes.
"What're ya lookin' to find, Cam? I'm fixin' to doubt if this is even gonna pan out." Bo says as I make my way up the steps.
"Don't know. But dere's only one way to find out." I respond as I walk inside, feeling the cool air of the AC hit my skin after being in the sun. It was only a few minutes but hot damn, this NC sun is out here cookin' for real.

|-That same morning. UNCW Randall Hall Library, University of North Carolina at Wilmington, 5162 Randall Drive, Wilmington-|

I want to help. Cam needs all the help he can get. So here I am in the library between classes, wanting to know more about Murim. Though… I don't exactly know how indigenous legends are going to help. Murim's stories all come from Europe. The Old World. I don't know how stories form the New World are going to help him out. Maybe there's something there that we don't know. Maybe some trick indigenous people's used to ward off evil spirits. Maybe he thinks that can work. I sit here with a book on indigenous folklore form people up in New York. "Seneca Myths and Folk Tales" is what it's called. And there's one story starting on page 278 that has my eye. "The Twelve Brothers and the Wraith of the Evil Warrior". Wonder what this could be about. So I get a new note opened on my laptop and start writing down things I think could be useful. Things that Cam could to that might help. Though, at the same time, the thought of this being cultural appropriation is lingering in my mind. None of us are indigenous. And this… I don't know. It doesn't quite feel right. But desperate times, I suppose.

Hmm… that didn't really help as much as I thought it would. We're not dealing with a wraith or ghost. Murim is something else entirely. I close the book and start to return it where I found it. Another dead end. Unfortunate. But not entirely unexpected. When Cam brought this up, me and Bo immediately looked at each other and I could tell he had the same thought I was having. 'This won't work.' Makes me wonder if they're having any luck in Raleigh. One of Bo's friends works at the history museum. They should be talking with her right now. Should I send them a text? Ask how that's working out for them? No. Too much. I return to where I had set my bag down and gather my things. I have classes soon and I don't want to be late for them. I could always come back here and do more personal research into Murim. Try and find different sources. That seemed to work the last time. But that could just as easily be toxic optimism. Last time I checked out any website with information on Murim, I got almost nothing on Murim himself. Not in terms of weaknesses, at least. Though Cam did mention that things that can ward off demons ar effective… Even though Murim isn't a demon. I need to get going. No time to waste.

Maybe lunch can help clear my thoughts. Give me a better idea of what Cam's dealing with. I look down at the basket that has my food in it. Wings. And they're not too bad.

"So this guy from Philly… Boyfriend?" Sarah asks. Rudely, might I add.
"What? No." I tell her as I take another bite, that damn golden feather coming back to my mind. I still have it. I'm tempted to just… look at it whenever I remember it. But then I start remembering how draining it felt to do that. I need to get rid of it.
"Then what is he? You were talking non-stop about him before he came down here. And frankly, you haven't stopped." Jay decides to enter the conversation.
"He's a really good friend. Like a brother. Now drop it." I say as I finish my food. I grab my cup and drink the last of my water as Sarah stares me down. "What? Is there something on my face?" "Are you at least gonna tell us what he's like?" She asks, that flirtatious look now in her eyes. "About Cam? Why would I do that? I know what you're gonna try and do." I tell her, waving away the look in her eyes. "Not like you'd succeed, anyhow." I then add, under my breath.
"You said he works construction, right? ow is a bookworm like you friends with him?" Jay retorts on behalf of Sarah.
"We met as kids. Pretty much stuck together throughout elementary, middle and high school. I'm the only reason he graduated." I say, chuckling as I remember how close Cam was to repeating sophomore year. Sarah notices the gesture and immediately digs in.
"Oh, so you do like him…" She says, adding venom to her voice. "I do not." I respond as something gets my attention.

I spot a waiter bringing some kind of desert to our table.
"I… don't remember ordering that…" I say as he sets it down. A cheesecake. Yeah. Definitely didn't order this.
"We ordered something before you got here. Made sure there was enough, though." Jay says as she cuts into the cake, grabbing a slice for herself. How thoughtful.
"Well thanks." I say as I grab a slice of my own. But the color of the cake reminds me of that feather again. That damn golden feather. I'm burning it. Next time someone has the fire pit going in the complex, I'm sneaking that feather into the inferno. But that can wait. I need to finish eating. Then find out anything I can about Murim. And I do mean anything.

Back in the library for the afternoon. All classes are done for the day and I'll be here until 5. I get my laptop back out, plug it in and start surfing the web. I pull up some old notes I took a few weeks ago and see some of the old websites I had gone to.
"Odd European Folkore"
I get that link open and it takes me to the homepage, where I see something has been added. Something new, yet familiar: An article on Murim. Seems they're doing a little special treat for their readers today. Just my luck. I click on the article and start seeing a lot of information. Mostly things I already knew thanks to Cam and previous ventures into this, but there are a few things that are entirely new. New to me, at least. Namely: Necromancy. Because of course. Why wouldn't Murim be able to raise the dead?

I quickly go through it and take as many notes as I can. The corpses Murim raises act as a defense mechanism for the Grove. And anyone unlucky enough to be guided there that dies becomes a part of that defense mechanism. Theses undead thralls can also be used to some degree offensively, though they are weaker when Murim is using this power outside the Grove. That… Cam might be able to use that in the future. The thralls are only skeletal and not even the whole body, only select parts depending on what Murim is trying to do. Yeah, Cam can definitely use that information. But I need to know if there's anything that can ward him off. Not just things that can be used against demons. Things specific to Murim. I think back to that brooch Cam showed me and Bo. How it can "hide" him from Murim. Magic's real, I guess. So much for logic and science. But how exactly does it work? I need to find that out.

Another tab, another note. This time, focusing on witches in Central Europe. And immediately, I find something worth looking at.
"Tales of Witchcraft in the Austrian Empire"
Bingo. I click the link and start reading. As soon as I start processing the information, I write down whatever I think might be able to help Cam. This keeps going for a few minutes until I reach something I didn't expect. A little village called "Kieferberg" and it's saint. A figure called Walpurga… This can either end very well or extremely poorly for Cam. I read on, and learn that this Walpurga is not like the patron of sailors. Many stories say that she was a witch that later converted to Catholicism for one reason or another, thus redeeming her soul. But there's one little thing that catches my eye. A little throwaway line.

'While this Walpurga did convert to Christianity in life, she still held on to some of her power, and used it to defy many imps, demons and other evil spirits that inhabited the woods surrounding Kieferberg. Among them is a small being simply referred to as Him. Walpurga's magic can repel Him and His proxies, though the reason why is not well understood.'

This. This is what I've been looking for. This could be what saves Cam's hide. But now I need to figure out how this ties into that brooch Cam has. Maybe whoever gave it to him can help. I'll need to ask him and Bo when they get back from Raleigh.

|-That afternoon. James B. Hunt Jr. Library, North Carolina State University. 1070 Partners Way, Raleigh-|

"Nothin' come up yet?" I ask Cam, watchin' his face go from one kind of peeved to another.
"Nuttin' at all." He says, sittin' down right across from me, takin' a long pull of air tryin' to get himself squared away. "Startin' to feel like a real dumb jagoff."
"Now don't go sayin' that." I say, tryin' to keep our chins up. "This might be a dead end, but there's gonna be other ways. We just gotta keep our heads together." I keep talkin, tryin' my best to act like I got it all figured out, even though I'll admit, this's fixin' to get us real discouraged.
"Like what? You got any bright ideas, Bo?" Cam asks, soundin' a mite bitter-edged. It's got my mind fixin' to work. Gets the wheels spinnin'.
"That brooch. You said it could keep you hid from the Crow. How's that work?" I ask as the thought hits me. Cam goes from plumb ticked to plumb confused then right back to being ticked. Reckon he wasn't fixin' to answer that, and he didn't care for it none.
"Dunno. Don't give a damn as long as it works and I ain't sayin' his name out loud." He answers back. Now, that ain't the right way to act.
"Well, how 'bout we just wrap out heads 'round how this works? Surely Senara told ya somethin' 'bout it, right?" I ask, fixin' to get all the info I can out of Cam before we go lookin'.

Cam gets all turned around again and just sits there plumb stuck for a good minute. He pulls out his phone, likely lookin' at somethin' he jotted down a few days back. Then he's lookin' at me, then back at his phone, then back at me again. Then, he just takes another long ol' breath.
"Apparently this brooch belonged to a low noblewoman from Austria named Elise die Heilige." He starts on, lookin' plumb defeated and all. "Born out of the woods. From a witch named Walpurga. Apparently she doesn't get along quite so well this Him and His marquises. The inciting incident was Elise's birth, form what I could gather. He took some old woman's wish for a child and made it a reality, using Walpurga's forest as the womb."
"Oh… Now, that… that just ain't right." I say, tryin' to wrap my head round what Cam just told me
"An old lady… No. That just don't sit right with me." I keep pushin', 'cause I ain't fixin' to let that slide. There ain't no way an old woman made a deal with Him just to have a baby. "That's plumb selfish. The kind of thing that'll land you straight in Hell."
"That's what Senara told me. And I was able to verify it." Cam says somethin' back, lookin' right back down at that brooch. "She thinks that Walpurga took a part of Elise after she died. Her brooch."

I take a deep breath, still tryin' to wrap my head round everything Cam just said. This old lady made a deal with a lil' devil for a kid… and used a witch's domain like a womb… then that witch went and took somethin' from that child once she passed on… Lord, it's just too much. But still, we gots to do somethin' with what we know.
"Why's He got such a beef with Walpurga? I can see why she'd be a lil' worked up, but Him? Just don't see it." I say, my voice startin' to shake a bit.
"Don't know. Never really gave it that much thought." Cam says as his eyes meet mine for a moment, then they dart right over toward the window. Did he spot another crow? Is Murim still out lookin' for him? I don't get a lick of an answer when Cam turns back to me. He just stays quiet as a mouse.
"Well, why don't we go take a look?" I ask, knowin' full well that, like all the Native stuff, we probably won't get much further than we already are.

But it just might be worth a go.

Cam gets up and heads straight for a computer. He sits a spell and starts diggin' through things. He's movin' a whole lot faster this time. Almost like he knows just what he's lookin' for. Then I recall what he was sayin' 'bout that brooch the other day: How he can hear it talkin'. I ain't fixin' to believe it just yet, but I'm plumb curious. I look over at where Cam was sitting across from me and see that brooch sittin' right there. I figure I might as well give it another go. So I do. I pick up that moth-shaped thing and hold it up to my ear, holdin' my breath real quiet so I can hear whatever it's got to say.

ba-dum
ba-dum
ba-dum

Nothin' at first. But I'm just too curious to set it down yet.

ba-dum
ba-dum
ba-dum

A few more seconds tick by and I still ain't hearin' a lick. I'm fixin' to just let it be, but right as I go to set that brooch down…

He's here.

It caught me plumb off guard. Sounded like a young woman's voice, real faint-like. Reckon she ain't too much older than me and Cam. I looked all 'round, but ain't a soul near us. Which means… It had to've come from…

"Was… that you…" I whispered, lookin' straight at that brooch.

Be quiet. Murim is here. Hunting. Put me back in his pocket.

I snatch up that brooch quick and head on over to Cam, setting it down right beside him. He looks up, but 'fore he can even get a word out, I lean down and whisper in his ear.

"Take this. He's around. That little girl in that there brooch told me." I tell him, and he slides it right into his pocket 'fore gettin' back to his searchin'. I head back to our table and keep a close eye on folks passin' by, all while that woman is still carryin' on with me. And form the sounds of it-in my head, mind you-Cam's in on this too. Even if he don't say a word.

You won't be able to tell easily .
So what an I fixin' to look for then?
Odd movements. Constantly staring in one direction as if searching for someone. Hovering around certain places like he's setting an ambush. Murim may try to get to Cam through you.
So you're sayin' I oughtta steer clear of Cam?
For this moment.

I take a long breath, let out a sigh, and get myself up. It catches Cam's eye, but he looks like he's already onto me. I start headin' down the hall toward the elveators. I'm fixin'to head out and walk a bit just to keep Cam out of trouble. Is it gonna work? Reckon I don't know. But it's better'n nothin'.

The afternoon air's real crisp today. Just the way I like it. This little spot I'm at is mighty fine. I'm sitting by the engineering buildings, lookin' over that big 'ol lawn all the way to the library. Reckon I can see the farmer's market if I turn just right. But then that brooch's words come back to me. How Murim ain't gonna be easy to find. How he's fixin' to lie in wait. I best watch my step. I start headin' back towards Main Campus Drive 'bout the time I get that feelin' someone's watchin' me. Murim. Reckon it's him. I look around, but don't see a lick of nothin' at first. But as I'm passin' by one of them buildings, I'd swear on a stack of Bibles that I saw somethin' duck into the shadows. The feeling's just gettin' worse and closin' in on me. I gotta git. I know where my truck's parked, so I start haulin' tail to get there, tryin; to text Cam at the same time-splitthin' my mind between walkin' lookin' out for Murim, and my phone.
'Hey, might be in a bit of a fix.' I text him, waitin' to see what he says. Takes a second or two, but Cam does pick up.
'What's the problem?' He replies, and I can tell by that pause that he's fixin' to be worried. Real worried.\
'Think Murim might be on my tail.' I text back, pickin' up my pace to make a bee-line for the lot across from the library. 'Write down what you need and meet me at the truck. We're heading back to Wilmington right this second.' I don't need no more texts to know Cam's fixin' to pack his bags. I can tell. So there's a lick of hope. But at the same time… them eyes are gettin' closer. I take a peek at the library and I'd swear on a Bible I saw some kind of shadow person on the roof lookin' out. Lookin' straight at me. That ain't right. Not one bit. I'm fixin' to find some cover but it ain't doin' me no good. Time just stands till, then I hear a thud right near me. I ain't even lookin'. I know exactly what that was. I keep on movin', catchin' a glimpse of Cam through the glass. That's what keeps me goin'. That voice behind me, though…

"And where do you think you're going, Robert?" I hear Murim hollerin', but I don't say a word. I don't even give him a look. I just keep walkin'.
"It is rude to ignore those who want to converse with you, Robert." He won't quit on talkin'. That high-pitched hollerin' of his is plumb irritatin' my brain. Just tune him out. Just hush up and ignore him. But that winged varmit sure makes it a chore.
"You will acknowledge my presence, Robert." He gives it another go. Still plumb fails. Just keep on a-walkin'. The lots right there. But then Murim's gotta go and act a fool.

"Perhaps a visage of your dear great-uncle will set your straight."

I stop right there. Dead in my tracks. Hell no. Not on my watch. Ain't no way in hell that sumbitch is gonna go mentionin' my great-uncle. Not when I know he's the reason Uncle Darrel is gone.I turn 'round and see Murim. He'a a whole lot smaller that I reckoned. All the better. I start stompin' on over to him, lookin' for blood, fist clenched tight. But as I'm fixin' to swing, he's gone.

"Hmm… yes. Just as I expected. Too predictable, Robert. Just like your grandfather. Just like your great-uncle."

"What you want, you bow-legged bastard?" I holler, not even lookin' to see if anyone's around. Ain't nobody here after a quick peek.
"You know exactly who I want, Robert. Where is Cameron?" Murim don't beat around the bush, talkin' sharp as a tack. I can't stand the sound of it; it gets right under my skin.
"Like hell I'm tellin' you." I say, spittin' his way. I know it ain't doin' much, but I'm plumb tired of this occult horseshit. I just want this whole thing to be over and done with. But Murim's got other plans. One minute he's perched up on a light post lookin' down at me, then I blink and he's got his talons sunk right into my leg. I'm holdin' back a yell, but it hurst like a mother.
"A horrible decision, Robert." He whispers in my ear as he lets go. As much as that hurt, I don't feel no blood runnin' down my leg. I then take off runnin' toward the lot while Murim's actin' all high and mighty.

"A little whelp. Just like your great uncle." That's one.
"Run while you can. It won't keep Cameron from my grasp." There goes another one. "You'll join Darrel if you keep this up." That bastard thinks he's real smooth.

I just tune out Murim's yappin' as I get to my truck, unlock the doors, and hop into the driver's seat and Cam climbs in beside me. He looks plumb wore out, but he's still doin' better'n me.
"You look like shit." Cam hollers as he sees me, but I don't pay it no mind. I get them keys in the ignition and head on out. I don't want to be fixin' to deal with this right now. I just want to get us home.

"So he was taunting you? Jesus… Dat murderbird's goin' crazy tryin' ta find me." Cam's talkin' while I'm tellin' him the whole story. I'm still plumb shook. And riled up. Bringin' up Great Uncle Darrel like that… That crow is just awful. I'm gonna wring Murim's neck if I ever catch up to him. "Let's just focus on gettin' back to Wilmington." I say as we're rollin' down I-40. "We can fix to talk more later." Cam ain't fussin' none. He's just starin' out the window, likely havin' a whole talk with whatever's in that brooch. I'll gots to ask him what he found when we get back. But for now: the road. It's gettin' dark and it's gonna take us a good while to get down to Wilmington. I need to keep my eyes peeled on the road, so Cam's gonna have to keep lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

"Hey, watch for anything strange." I tell him as we keep rollin' along, fixin' to go a mite slower than the limit.
"Don't gotta tell me twice." He hollers back while fidgetin' in his seat, eyes fixed right to the window. Reckon he's got somethin' weighin' on him, though. "We're not gonna get out of this mess on our own, are we?" He asks, soundin' all defeated like. This can't be no good.
"Not with an attitude like that." I tell him, 'cause I don't even wanna think 'bout what's comin'in two days if we don't get our act together. I don't care to head up to Burgaw. I don't want to pokin' at old wounds. But we're runnin' low on time, and that means we're gonna start actin' desperate. I don't care much for that. But then that lil' voice starts actin' up again. Reckon Cam's a-hearin' it too.

Maybe the witch can help.
I glance over at Cam real quick, and his eyes say everything I need to know. "You heard that too?" I ask, knowin' dang well what he's going to say.
"Witch? What witch? You think it's talking about Senara?" He starts goin' off, and we hear that voice one more time.
Is she not a witch?
I can tell right now Cam's fixin' to talk to that thing. Tell it Senara ain't no witch, she's just doin' what she's got to do to get by.
But she can still help?
"Well, she's been helpful so far. No reason to not ask again." Cam says out loud, makin' sure I'm in the loop too. Reckon we got somethin' to look forward to, even if it is a bit peculiar.

We done passed Faison by now. Reckon it's another hour and a half 'fore we hit Wilmington. And I'm feelin' eyes on me again. Murim's been tailin' us the whole way. Vengeful little bastard, ain't he? But I'm fixin' to keep my eyes on the road while Cam keeps a lookout. We're gonna make it back in one piece. I'll see to that.
"You think he's following us?" I hear Cam askin' from right beside me.
"Ain't gonna surprise me none. If he tracked us all the way up to Raleigh, he's fixin' to tail us straight back down to Wilmington. Hell, he followed you all the way from Philly, didn't he?" I shoot back, hopin; to squeeze out a bit more out of Cam 'bout how and why this whole mess started. "Don't know. Really only noticed the weird shit in Virginia. And I was almost in NC by that point." He gets back to me, givin' me a rough idea of how it all went south.
"When'd you head out of Philly?" I ask. "What was the first thing that seemed plumb wrong?" I'm tryin' to hit him with the one two punch.
"Uh… It was early in the afternoon of the 16th. Back in March. Spent that whole day driving. Nothing really out of the ordinary started happening. Wasn't until that night that things got weird." Cam gets goin', tryin' to piece together that long ol' drive of his. "Second I passed by Richmond there was nobody else on the interstate. This is I-95 we're talking about. Keep that in mind. That's also when Is tarted to feel like I was being watched." Cam pauses a spell, fixin' not to go on, but he knows he's gotta. "Every glance I'd take at the tree line I swear I saw tiny little red dots. Staring right at me. Didn't get better when I stopped for the night. Hell, it only got worse that morning. Woke up at three in the morning. Something hit the window of the hotel I was in. Went to look out, so those same little red dots in the treeline across the road. Few minutes later, I look out again and see him. On top of my car."

Quiet settles in the truck again, nothing bu the engine hummin' as we roll down the interstate. Murim showed his face that early? Why on earth… would he do that? Just don't make sense.
"So you've known what he looke like this whole time?" I ask, plumb bewildered by what he'd just said.
"Didn't know at the time, but yeah. Tried to forget about it when the sun finally rose, but a giant murder of crows was above the road as I crossed the state line. Pretty hard to get the image of a golden bird on your car out of your head when you see something like that." Cam says, lookin' back out the window. He's fixin' to stare right through them trees. But he ain't sayin' nothin', so I reckon we're in the clear. For right now, anyway. So I just keep on rollin'. We're passin' Murray town now,so it won't be more'n twenty minutes 'til we hit Wilmington. I'm plumb tuckered out and just need to sleep. But then Cam goes and stirs up all the peace we had settled into.

"You better step on it. He's right there." He says, and I don't even have to look his way to know. I can just feel it: Murim's tucked in them trees. And he's keepin' up just fine. I'm hittin' 75 now, and he's right there with me. He's mighty quick for a fella only 5'5". Then again, he ain't human, so that's fixin' to give him an edge.
"What you reckon he's up to?" I ask Cam, keepin'my eyes peeled on the road tryin' to outrun Murim, though I'm dyin' to know what his plan is.
"Dunno. Don't give a shit. JUST STEP ON IT BO!"

I'm haulin' tail now, goin' twenty over the speed limit and somehow keepin' this old jalopy on the road. It don't take long for those eyes to be gone, but I reckon Murim was just testin' our mettle. "He's fixin' to try that again, you know that, right?" I ask Cam as I ease off the gas, coastin' 'til we're a mite under the speed limit on the interstate. Not that it matters much. I oughta be slowin' down more. We're fixin'to hit Wilmington, and the Cordelia ain't much further down the road.

"I wouldn't be surprised. But I doubt he'd do it while we're in city limits. So we can rest for a bit." Cam says as I eye the speedometer. Thirty-five. Reckon I need to slow it down to twenty-five. "I'm fixin' to trust you, but this crow's bound to throw us a curveball." I say as we pull into Wilmington proper. Just a few more turns and we'll be home. "You oughta give Senara a holler. See if she's got anything else to help us out." I say as I turn onto Ringo Drive. Ain't gonna be long none. We can finally lay us down and rest a spell.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll do that when we get back to Maddy's apartment."

|-An unknown time. The Ceramic Grove of Wheat-|

I am still nursing my injury from the other night. From when Cameron dared to assault me. Walpurga's stench has made him rather bold. So bold that he thinks he can escape my sight with others. But he did not. I maye not have seen Cameron himself, but I did catch sight of Robert. What a fool. Perhaps an even bigger fool than Cameron. It seems mentioning Darrel was enough to elicit a strong emotional response from the man. I will use that. Break Robert down until he is cooperative. Cameron will become a proxy for my Master. I will make sure of it.

I perch on one of the many stone ruins that dot the landscape of my Grove. I take stock of what is here. How much has changed. How much has remained static. A place frozen in time, yet still alive. That is what the Ceramic Grove of Wheat is. I drop down form my perch, changing my form mid air so that I may land gracefully on my feet. My wing still stings. Perhaps it will for some time. But no matter. I have dealt with worse than a potential proxy fighting his destiny. I walk into the stalks, taking note of their smell and height. How they tower above me. but this is my domain. They will bend to my will when I dictate it. And so they do. They split, giving me the perfect amount of room to walk. To admire my Grove. And that's when members of my murder arrive.

'Our master! Our Master. He had returned! Has returned!" They squawk as they land on the ground beside me.
"Yes, I have. Have you seen the celt? What is she plotting?" I ask them, wanting to know everything on Senara's whereabouts.
"She taunts us! She taunts us!" They scream as if in pain. Senara once again proves why she is such an annoyance. But no matter. I have placed my mark upon her once more. Perhaps I can do what Aziel fails to accomplish.
"I see, I see… and of her whereabouts?" I then ask, hoping to shed some light on this situation. "By the sea, Master! By the sea!" They shout in unison. By the sea? Perhaps a pier. Maybe a sandy beach where the waves lap at her feet, threatening to swallow her whole. That would certainly be a sight to behold. No matter. For now, I rest.

I continue my journey through my domain, watching as the unchanging moon looms far above the towering stalks of wheat. I do wonder how many I have brought here over the countless centuries. Thousands, I am sure of it. But how many to be exact? Four or five thousand? Perhaps closer to ten thousand? I do not know. The bones of man and beast alike dot the ground, a canvas of rotten white that sullies the golden brown of the wheat field. Such a shame, really. Not that I particularly mind. The Grove needs it's sustenance after all. And the bones of man are it's most prized treat. I stop by a particular set of remains. I remember this one fondly. Little Darrel. Oh how his screams filled the air with a raucous cacophony. How delectable it was. How savory the fear in his voice became. It's not often that I get to indulge like that. Oh how delicious Cameron's fear will taste when I finally break him.

snap

My attention is taken by the sound of a twig breaking close to me. I look in the direction from which the sound emanated, hoping to see what it was. A few seconds later, a thrall emerges from the stalks, it's body rotten and necrotic. It's head reduced to nothing but a bare skull with scrapes of flesh still attached and sunken, glazed over eyes from which it can barely see. Never has one come to be on it's own accord. I simply leave them to their own devices until I have need of them.
Someone has directed this thrall to find me. And I know who.
"What do you want this time, Aziel? What makes you think that you any right to take charge of my thralls in my own domain?" I shout, demanding that the Snake reveal herself. I hear the stalks way violently as something new approaches. It is fast and angry. Soon enough, Aziel stands before me, bisecting the thrall she had commandeered when she had entered my Grove. The pompous harlot…

"MURIM! YOU INSSSSSUFFERABLE OAF OF A CROW! HOW DARE YOU INJECT YOURSSSSSELF INTO MY QUARRELSSSSS! SSSSSENARA ISSSSS MINE AND MINE ALONE!" She says as she gazes upon me, hair bearing their fangs as she continues to approach. But I am not intimidated. Not like I once was.
"You will have her in time, Aziel. I am simply reminding you that you are not the only one that has use of her." I say as the Snake stops in her tracks. She simply stares at me, eyes wide and judging. "Not the only one who hasssss ussssse of her? And what ussssse could she possssssssssibly give you, Murim?" Aziel asks, fangs beared in anger, tongue flicking out rapidly as if trying to taste my fear in the air.
"Isn't it obvious?" I say as I shift forms, circling around Aziel as one of the many snakes that adorn her head snap at me. They certainly are angry this night, aren't they? "If I cannot see Cameron myself, I will make use of those that can. Quite the genius plan, wouldn't you admit?"
"Ssssstill trying to break that fool? The Massssster will never allow sssssuch a cretin to ssssserve him. Not when He hasssss ssssservantsssss sssssuch asssss usssss. You know thisssss, Murim." Aziel responds, her tone cold and calculating. Her demeanor… insulting.
"I have not spent the past month and a half stalking and laying in wait only for my prey to be called a 'fool' and a 'cretin', Aziel. You will see. Cameron will make a fine proxy for out Master. Now begone from my Grove. I do not wish to be disturbed nor do I want you to interfere in my mission." I retort, wanting to hear the Snake's grating voice for another second. It seems to have worked, as Aziel slips back into the stacks without another word. Good. Peace once again. I look to the ground, taking note of the now dead thrall. Not that I would allow such a thing. I shift forms once more and gesture with my wings, watching as the damage to the thrall is mended before it stands back up, shambling off into the wheat to terrorize and devour any poor soul that miraculously finds their way here. I'd take pity on them if I could. But alas, mercy and empathy are foreign concepts to me. I then look at the skeletal remains once more. Perhaps I should pay what's left of Darrel a visit. Yes… It has been some time since I last tormented that worm. One last meal.

I shift form once more, taking to the skies above the Grove in search of where I keep him. I can be quite forgetful sometimes, so it's location changes every now and then. But in this instance, I know where I must go. Deep beneath the ruined tower. That is where he resides. It doesn't take long for me to spot my objective. Once I have sight of the old stones, I shift course, feeling the wind beneath my wings change as I do so. Before too long, I have arrived, shifting form so that I may enter the structure properly. Already I can hear his pleas. How delightful… He still remembers me after all this time...
"Please… I'm beggin' ya… Just let me be… Let me pass on…" I hear from deep beneath the ground. It is not much, but it is still enough to satiate my appetite. I being marching down the tower staircase, a wide and devilish grin forming upon my features as what remains of Darrel's spirit continues to plead.
"P'lease… I'm fixin' to go… Ain't you had plumb enough?" His words grow louder and louder as I continue my descent, until finally a faint, golden light appears around the corner. Soon, the form of Darrel comes into my sight.

"Hello, Darrel." I say as I take in the sight. He has faded considerably. A testament to how filling his essence and fear is. No other prey has quite come to the flavor he possesses. But I know that after this he will nearly be gone. There will be no afterlife for Darrel. "It certainly has been a while, hasn't it?"
"Lawd… Just leave a body be…" He pleads, voice strained and weak from the various times I have fed off his essence since ending his life over fifty years ago.
"You know I cannot do that, Darrel. Besides, I have such wonderful news for you. Are you not excited to hear it?" I say, knowing that it will only further his misery. His golden form writes against the spectral chains that bind him to the wall. One of the few times outside of a contract where Aziel has dained to cooperate with me. I should really thank her for that. And that demand she teach me. But that can wait. "I have recently become properly acquainted with a certain great-nephew of yours. Does that not simply make one ecstatic and overjoyed?"
"Naw… Naw, naw, naw… You best leave him be. My kin's had plumb enough of what you done to me, you blasted crow." Darrel responds, drawing whatever strength he has left to try and intimidate me. How rude.
"Hmm… You wound me, Darrel. Is that anyway to regard in old friend? Are you not overflowing with joy to learn how Robert, descendant of your dear brother Thomas, has been faring?" I taunt him, watching as the light flickers. Evidence of his growing fear. Yes… You should be afraid, Darrel… It only makes you more delicious…
"I tell'd ya… Leave 'im be. You've done plumb enough to my kin." He retorts weakly, almost resigning himself to his grim fate. I take a step closer, watching the light flicker once more. Another step, another flicker. I then begin marching towards Darrel, taking note of how he becomes dimmer and dimmer as I make my approach. I then reach out with a wing, placing it under his chin and raising it so that he may see my face.
"You know I can't do that, Darrel. Not when poor little Robert can be useful to me. After all, I do have prey to hunt." I say, continuing to taunt Darrel, continuing to watch his light become dimmer and dimmer. "You can't be the only one I feed one forever." With two wings, I brush my hair aside, revealing a piercing gaze that causing Darrel immense pain. Or whatever the equivalent of that would be for an incorporeal being like he is. Then, his screams begin. His oh so delectable screams. Already, I can feel my stomach becoming fuller and fuller. Just as it always had whenever I decide to feast upon Darrel's essence. But I must keep moderation in mind, this time. For I do not know how much longer I can continue to feed on him. Perhaps only once more when this is over.

As soon as it began, however, my feeding ends. Darrel always proved to be quite the fulfilling meal. It will be a shame when his essence finally runs dry. I then hide my face once more before turning around, shifting form, but not before leaving Darrel with one last quip.

"Until we meet again, Darrel. I'll always keep in touch." I say as I fly away, leaving Darrel to despair over his great-nephew's fate.

"Robert… Stay… Stay safe now… Don't go makin' the same mistakes I did…"

|-Saturday morning. April 6th, 2024. The Cordelia, 4721 Azalea Landing Drive Room 3G, Wilmington, North Carolina-|

Couldn't sleep last night. Murim was out there. Heard him tapping on the window. Damn brooch was talking to me too. Jus' my luck, huh? Of course it is and knowing my luck things won't ever go back to normal after all this occult shit is done. No way in hell dat it can. So now here I am, laying on this flimsy air mattress, staring up at the ceiling. I reach over to grab my phone so I can check the time. Five thirty in the morning… How fun… I shoot a glance at Bo… seems he's still out cold. How he can be so unfazed by certain things baffles me. We have one more day to figure something out before he sends me up to Burgaw. Don't know what's gonna happen after that. Not like I want to.

Contact her.
Senara? Doubt she's even awake.
You don't know that.
What? And you would?
Contact her.

Damn jawn's gettin' pushy. Cuz dat's exactly what I needed right now. I reach for my phone again and start texting Senara, knowing full that this will annoy her.
'Need some help. Got any ideas?' I send, watching as the three dots appear almost immediately. Guess she ain't get much sleep neither.
'Doubtful, me 'ansome.' Senara responds, something that neither surprises me or disappoints me. I start processing it when the three dots come back. A few seconds later, another message. 'You may have to go along with whatever Bo has planned for you.' I know she's right. And I hate it. A whole lot. But if we can't find something that can deal with Murim soon… What choice do I have?

I sit up, hearing something move in the living room. No way. No. Murim can't have gotten in here. I slowly stand up, making my way to the door and pushing it open gently. I spot my hammer on the nightstand. Might need that jawn. But as I turn my attention back to the living room, I see Maddy. Thank fuck. Wait. Why is she up so early? It's a Saturday. She doesn't have any classes today. I slowly make my way out of Bo's room, approaching Maddy quietly. Doesn't matter, seems she noticed.
"Oh, Cam. You're awake. That's surprising." She says as she makes her way towards me.
"I can say the same about you." I respond as she reaches me. Something's off. But I can't tell what. There's a certain look in her eye that… Feels wrong somehow.
"I was… wanting to wait a few more hours but this can work." She says as she heads into her room. A few second later she comes back out with her laptop. Wut's she got goin' on?
"Uh… Maddy?" I ask as she sets her laptop down on the coffee table. She opens it up, and turns it on. The first thing I see are a lot of notes about "Walpurga". Oh great.
"I was, uh… What do you know about this?" She asks, gesturing for me to sit down next to her. I take another look at the notes she took. Seems she was working on this for a good while. Maybe most of yesterday. Wudn't be surprised.

"That depends. Is this Saint Walpurga, or…" I trail off, making my intentions known. And Maddy seems to pick up on it. Guess this "research" of hers goes deep.
"Not a saint. A witch." She says with a huff. All this occult stuff is messing with her too, huh? Miss "Woman of Logic".
"Venerated in an old Austrian village called Keiferberg. Of course, no one alive today knows where the hell the place is. Only that is was in Austria." I say, watching as Maddy's eyes go from me to one of the photos on the walls. Something tells me I know which one she's looking at. The picture of Heilige Castle that Reilly took when she was in Austria. Fuck! I don't wanna get her caught up in this. "No… We are not-"
"It's worth a shot." Maddy cuts me off before I can finish the sentence. She seems intent on this. "Look, I don't want to be doing this to her as much as you do, but… if it helps…"
"We don't know if it will help, Maddy." I say, darting my eyes between her and Reilly's door. She even awake or what? "Can we at least wait a few more hours? It's not even six." I say, watching as the gears turn in Maddy's head. Seems this is a compromise she's willing to make. But then my luck decides to get in the way of this plan as I see Reilly's door slowly open. Guess she's an early bird. She steps out into the living room, yawning, not really paying attention to anything before she stops. Looks like we've been noticed.

"Okay, so… This is some of the video footage we got on day two and it goes into the night. Unless it's not the castle you're interested in." Reilly says as the video starts playing. Me and Maddy exchange looks, and that's enough to tell Reilly that we want to see something else. And for once, my luck is actually useful. "Kieferberg? I'm still not 100% certain that this was the right location, but I'm confident in saying that it was." She says as she pulls up a different video. This time, she's in a forest and there are some ruins visible. Looks like a gate of some kind, followed by a fountain and maybe a church. Can't tell wit all the vines 'n' shit on da stones. I then look down at the small map Reilly pulled out. Seems to be a rough sketch of Kieferberg's layout. And it looks like certain things do line up. Which begs the question…
"That fountain and church seem to be in the right places according to this map. Why are you doubting yourself?" I ask, watching Reilly's head turn towards me. Seems she's already got an answer.
"This was like, an hour's hike north of Panidorf. Heilige Castle isn't too far from there, just west. Go any further and you'd be in Germany. I knew that places like Kieferberg and Primeldorf were close to the border but I just didn't know how close. There were spots in both villages where you could see the castle." She says as she starts the playback on the video again. Reilly then takes a deep breath before speaking up again. "There are also at least two districts in each village that are damn near identical. And with all the ruins and foliage obscuring sight lines, it made it hard to tell which district we were in." I lean back, not really sure what to make of Reilly's words. On the one hand, yeah, that's good reasoning for her hesitancy. But on the other, this map… Too many things are lining up to be coincidental. I'm not one to believe that kind of stuff, but sometimes… It's hard not to. I take a glance over at Maddy, who is fully engrossed with the video. I watch again, noticing how certain things in the forest just don't seem right. Another question to ask.

"There wasn't anything weird in those woods, was there?" I ask, noting how Reilly doesn't turn her head this time.
"When the sun went down, we all felt like we were being watched. Didn't even take that long for it to happen. First night." She says as she rewinds the video a bit. "Look, right here. Sun's finally dipped down the horizon and already you can see a lot of eyes shining in the bushes. Wasn't even all that dark yet. That was usually our sign to tail it back to Panidorf." She follows up. And now that Reilly's mentioned it, yeah, there are a lot of eyes shining in those bushes. Too many for it to be foxes, lynxes or other wild animals. Making me a little uncomfortable, honestly.
"Was there… Anything else?" I hear Maddy ask cautiously, getting Reilly to turn her head again.
"There were all these sounds coming from the woods. Bit unnerving. Got real loud around three in the morning. Still don't know why." She says. Of course…
"Witching Hour…" I mumble, not fully cognizant that it was out loud until Reilly taps me on the shoulder.
"And what would you know about that?" She asks in an accusatory manner.
"Like I fuckin' know." I respond, not sure on how I can explain this. "It's like, this weird time where ghosts can easily come into the world of the living. Great time for witches to have black masses too, apparently." I say, trying to remember everything Senara told me about the Witching Hour. Guess I'm explaining this poorly, judgign by their reactions.
"I mean, that's the basics of it." Reilly says as she looks back at Maddy's laptop, giving me some form of relief. "Bit more complicated but it's a good enough explanation. Don't know why it never crossed my mind when we were there." She then turns her head back to me. "Curious, though: How do you know about this? Got anything to do with your little crow friend?"
"Unfortunately." I respond. The dead look in Reilly's eyes is all I need to know what her thoughts are. What her next words will be.

thud

The three of us all turn to face one of the windows. Shit. Murim. I quickly close Maddy's laptop and dash over to the window, wanting to get the curtains closed as I see something fly by. Couldn't get the best look, but it seemed to reflect light off it. Nothing else can do that. Not that I know of, at least. I get the curtains closed and turn back to face Reilly and Maddy just as Murim hits the window again.
"This little golden jagoff…" I mutter under my breath as he taps the glass. We all sit in a tense silence as this goes on for a few seconds. After that, Murim seems to give up and flies off. I don't trust dis, though. Little murderbird could just be waiting. Laying a trap. I swear, if he tries to use Maddy to get at me… I take a deep breath before walking back to them, sitting down next to Reilly as she opens Maddy's laptop again. Another video starts. This time, fully in the dark.
"Oh, how bold." I say, watching Reilly almost trip over a log.
"It was a stupid decision. We shouldn't have gone out there after dark." She says as she looks at all the eyes staring at her from the bushes. Then, a moth lands on her flashlight. "Hate those things."
"What? The moth?" I say, looking at the moth itself and realizing something… interesting: The brooch is shaped like one of them. I quickly pull it out of my pocket, holding it up as Reilly pauses the video. Good timing too, a big moth is center frame. Perfect occasion to compare.

"What the… You know what? Not gonna ask questions." She says as I inch my way closer to the screen. I look at the brooch, then at the moth, instantly taking ntoe of how the coloration of the stone is similar to the moth. It's almost that exact same shade of unnaturally deep and vibrant purple. Just thinking about it is enough to make me nauseous. How fun. My life just keeps gettin' weirder 'n' weirder…

|-That same morning. Fort Fisher, 1000 Loggerhead Road, Kure Beach-|

So Murim 'ave marked me again, 'as 'e? Course 'e 'as. Why did I ever think 'e wouldn't? 'Tis bad 'nough Aziel be chasin' me like a hound. Now I gotta fret about that damn blasted Crow again. Somethin' tells me this'll be the end o' my road. I draw a deep breath, lettin' the salty air fill me lungs while I rack me brains fer how to save my skin this time. Tes no way I'll let neither of 'em have me. I'd sooner go down fightin' than give in. I've put too many hours in stoppin' more folk endin' up like me fer that.

I start walkin' down the beach, feet hittin' the sand softly as the waves crash on the shore not too far from me. I think back to Lydia. How she deserved so much better than me. How I had no right to treat her the ways I did. How greedy I was. The self-absorption and the narcissism. How I could be so blind to everything that was happenin'. When all I wanted was a better life for both of us. An' because o' bein' greedy, I've got nasty spirits on me tail and the only person who made life worth livin', the only woman who ever showed me real love and connection is gone. Some partner I was. I turn me 'ead to look at the ocean. The beast that is the Atlantic. The thought… 'Tis temptin'. really is. Just walk into that wide blue and never look back. Let the waves take me. Damn sight better than lettin' Aziel, Murim or God forbid Him from rippin' me soul from my body. Just walk into those azure waters and sink once I'm deep enough. But at the same time, if there's a way to really stop 'em, I'd lose it. I'd give up right before findin' whatever it ends up bein'.

Can't'ave that, can I?

So I ignore that song, reject the call of the grave. Spite got me this far. 'Twill be enough to keep me goin'. 'Tes only for a little while, like.

The swishin' o' the waves 'pon the shoreline don't do much t' ease me mind. I don't think owt can, really. Not wi' all that's happened since I come to Wilmington. Vain 'ope… That's wot the damn Snake called it. I dunt care if 'tis a lost cause. If there's anythin' that can stop someone from makin' my mistakes, then 'tis worth everythin'. Even if 'tis one soul. So I'll keep traipsin', knowin' that Aziel'll find me sooner or later. Let 'er. At least I'll go down knowin' I 'ad a go.

I tek one last breath, sal a-scratchin' at me lungs as I do so. Not the most pleasant smell, but 'tis one I'm used to/ One I'm familiar with. Reminds me of Penzance in an odd way. I sit down at a bench an' brush the sand of me feet 'fore I slip me shoes back on. Time to head back. Face whatever's waitin' for me in that bloody house. Knew I weren't safe there. But where else'm I gonna go? Can't go back to Britain. Not now, at least. Now when Murim's chasin' Cam. Or maybe I could. Deprive the Crow of a way ter get at 'im. Would certainly work. Then again, 'e'll find a way ter bring me back 'ere. 'E always does. Bloody Crow, too damn smart fer 'is own good.

The one ting I 'ates most 'bout Murim, 'is cleverness. An' unlucky-like, I always fail to reckon with it. Always fall for 'is bluffs an' 'is tricks. 'E likes to play the gorm, act the daft 'un. An' that's dangerous. Too dangerous. Aziel's straight to the point, 'er. You can tell when you walks into 'er trap. She's too 'onest like that. Too obvious. She thinks she be smarter than she really is. Ironical for a Snake like 'er. But Murim? 'E knows how smart 'e be. Exactly. And 'e knows 'ow to use it to 'is advantage. 'E uses 'is small stature as a cudgel. You'd never expect the mastermind to be someone what looks like 'e wears potato sacks as trousers. Someone who controls crows that spout the most nonsensical things imaginable. Yet despite all that, Murim was the one I dreaded seeing most in that castle. In that hall. 'Cos I know what 'e be. What 'e can do. 'E's too. Damn. Smart. 'E knows 'e's too damn smart. An' 'e makes it everyone's trouble.

I starts walkin' back to the car, the feelin' of eyes never leavin' me as I goes. She's watchin'. Hopin' for the chance to strike. But I'll see 'er comin'. Aziel won't get me today. Once I 'as the vehicle in sight, I unlocks the doors and then slides in once I reaches it, feelin' antsy as I puts the keys into the ignition. I catch as glimpse of somethin' reflectin' light in the rear-view. Looks like gold. But it isn't a snake. Dammit. I quick start drivin' to get some distance on the road, but 'tis no good. Next I look in t' rear-view, there's Murim loungin' in 't backseat, all smug-like. I take a deep breath, knowin' exactly what 'e'll try to do.
"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me again, Senara." 'E says, voice drippin' with sarcasm, tryin' to act like 'e didn't put that damn hex in me eye t'other night. Birdie bast'ard.
"Like 'hell I'll bring 'ee to 'im." I tells 'him, thinkin' 'bout drivin' the car off the road an' into the sea past the rocks. Seems Murim 'as caught on to me plan, though, the sly fuck.
"Now, now. You wouldn't want to risk something so reckless, would you? Become another statistic. Another tragedy. I wouldn't. I'm sure Cameron wouldn't appreciate the gesture either." 'E starts goin' on, annoyin' me now with taht scratchy voice of 'is.
"Like I 'ave much to live for any'ow." I replies, watchin' Murim shift from lyin' down to sittin', placin' 'isself in the middle of the seats so I can see 'im well.
"Yes, you would think that. But life has silver linings, you know. Lead me to Cameron, and you will have a second chance at happiness. Another opportunity to have your deepest desires realized. Is that not what you want, still?" 'E says, tryin' to tempt me now, 'e is. But 'twon't work. 'E'll fail just like Lucifer did in the wilderness. The difference be that Jesus were the righteous son o' God. I bain't. I be a sinner. An' a pathetic one at that. Don't stop Murim from his monologue, though. "You can do much than resist. You know that all your efforts are futile, just like Cameron's. So give in. Lead me to him, and I'll put in the good word to my Master. All of this business will be forgotten, and you'll have the better life you so dearly craved. It really is that simple, Senara. Bring me to the proxy, and be rewarded. Continue to resist… And you will wander my Grove for all eternity. The choice is yours."
"That don't sound like much of a choice, do it?" I says, wacthin' the road close, still thinkin' about lettin' the Atlantic take me. If I'm lucky, she'll take Murim, too. But I bain't lucky. 'E'll find a way out o' that mess. So instead, I keeps drivin'. Drivin' while this damn blasted bird sits in the back 'n' taunts me. Makes me want to clout 'im right 'ere 'n' now. But that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Of course, a small price must be paid, but you're used to those, aren't you?" Maek 'e stop…
"It would be nothing serious. No items of value would be lost." Why 'ave 'ee forsaken me, God?
"Now that I think of it, no person of value would be lost." What did I do to deserve this 'ere? "Have you considered that, Senara?"

"Have 'ee considered shuttin' tha fuck up?" I retorts, wantin' nothin' more than silence in the car. Nice an' peaceful silence. The sort that could put a babby to sleep. But of course, I don't get that. Not wi' Murim.
"Oh, how rude. Is that anyway to talk to your old friend?" Ar, this bit again. Guilt trippin'. If I was younger, I'd fall for it. But I'm smarter than that.
"Us two were never mates. An' if you keep yappin' like that, I'll shove my fist down your throat. See if you got a gizzard like a turkey." I say, eyes never leavin' the rear-view mirror. I watch as Murim actually stays quiet for a few seconds, thinkin' up a reply in his head. Then, somethin' in the air changes, an' the next thing I know, Murim's changed his looks. 'Cause of course 'e 'as.
"My, my. Quite the threat, Senara. But you know as well as I that it is a hollow one. Even more unfortunate that our time together must end now." 'E starts, eyes driftin' to the side o' the road. Me thinks I passed a church. What might 'e be wantin' there? "There's an opportunity to go back the way you came. There's an old… acquaintance of mine in the sanctuary you just passed. I wish to follow up on some discussions we've had in the past." 'E follows up, and then in a blink 'o an eye, 'e's gone. Murim ain't in the back seat no more. Though when I look in one o' the side mirrors, I sees this uncanny figure standin' by the side o' the road, wavin' at me. Whiche'er poor soul in that church… Yow won't see 'Eaven. Not if you've 'ad dealin' with Murim. I knows that fer a fact.

|-That evening. Johnnie Mercers Fishing Pier, 23 East Salisbury Street, Wrightsville Beach-|

Just one bite. That's all I'm askin' for. It'll get my mind off things, even if just for a few minutes. I don't wanna think 'bout this whole crow mess. An' I don't wanna think 'bout how we ain't findin' no solution. Feelin' like Paw-Paw ain't got one neither. He's done had over fifty years to find it an' never said a word. Plumb disheartening.

I give my line some slack as I slowly reel it in, fixin' t' cast again, this time aimin' a bit further out. Maybe that'll snag me a fish. Comin' out here always was a good pastime. Me, daddy and Paw-Paw just out on the pier fishin'. Castin' out lines out into the sea. Ain't got no worry in the world. The three of us made sure there weren't never a dull moment. Even when the fish weren't biting and avoiding our lines. Might see a pelican dive down and snag a fish that come up too close. Maybe a gull'll try to steal my bait. All I know is we made some good memories right here.. And it's a real fine spot to try and clear my head.

I got my line back and cast out again, watcin it fly out farther than before. Now I'm just sittin' here waitin'. Don't feel nothin' on the line after a few seconds. But then somethin' tugs. Ain't the hardest, but enough to feel it. I start reelin' the line back in, but not too fast that I'll shake the fish off. Just enough to bring it home. After a second or two of wobblin', I get the fish up in the air, checkin' out what I snagged. Looks like a sea bass. A big'un too. He's a heft little feller. I grab him quick and yank the hook outta his mouth afore chuckin' him back in the ocean. Ain't lookin' to eat nothin' from the sea tonight. Not really hungry at all, now that I think on it.

I cast again, shootin' for the same distance when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Could be Cam or Maddy, wondering where I'm at. Could be Reilly, wantin' to go grab some grub on a whim. Nice little trip when that happens. But I know it ain't none of them. Not from how it's vibratin' against my leg.

It's Paw-Paw.

I take a deep breath, sighin' as I go and pull the little black box from out o' my pocket, answerin' his call and holdin' my phone up to my ear.
"Need somethin'?" I open up, knowin' full well where this is gonna go.
"You might wanna come on up here sooner 'n you think." He says, voice all scratchy like always. But more on edge. More… spooked. Like he done seen a haint. Can't be good. That damn Crow'ss messin' with him. Pokin' at him like he poked me yesterday when me and Cam was up at State.
"How soon? Tomorrow?" I ask, knowin' full well it's tomorrow. What else could it be?
"Tonight, likely." Paw-Paw answers. That messes things up good. A whole lot. And I don't take too kindly to things gettin' messy. I take me another deep breath, ain't crazy 'bout the spot I'm bein' put in. But if I know Paw-Paw like I reckon I do… He'll have somethin' for me and Cam.
"Tongiht? Ya want us… I ain't fixin' to argue with ya at this point." I hush up real quick 'cause I know I ain't gonna talk that old man outta it, He's too damn stubborn for that.
"Yeah, tonight." He says, takin' a deep breath after that 'fore he keeps talkin'. "Better not keep me waitin', Bo." Then he hangs up, leavin' me with a whole lot to sort out. I know Murim did somethin' to cause this. He had to. But I cain't prove it. Not yet. And just how's Cam gonna take that news? I cain't see him bein' too happy 'bout it. He weren't too keen on goin' up to Burgaw after I told him 'bout my first talk with Paw-Paw.

sigh

It comes out with a huff. What in the world am I fixin' to do now? I look back out at the ocean, goin' back to my rod 'cause it's the only thing that'll settle my nerves at this point. Might pull up another sea bass. Could be a king mackerel this time. Ain't hooked one of them in a right long while. Been itchin' to land one again. I'm castin' out, aimin' a bit further than the last two times. Mackerel don't usually come too close to the shore. They like to stay out yonder. And deep. But when the sun goes down, they get brave. Bold even. And the sun's gettin' right low. Perfect time to snatch one of them little fellers. I hold my breath a hot minute, nothin' bitin' right off the bat. Even now, at a time like this, they still ain't rushin'. Good for 'em. But I got patience to spare. And when you're out fishin', patience ain't just nice- it's how it's done. It's how you win. You leave that bait just a-swayin' in the tide like a carrot on a string in front of a hog. Temptin'. Tantalizin'. You wait for the right time. The perfect minute. Don't you even think 'bout pushin' it. 'Bout testin' your luck. That's how you run the fish off. After that, you gotta start all over from scratch. Ain't fun for nobody.

tug
tug
tug

I feel somethin' yankin' on my line. Could be a fish, nibblin' at the bait. Might interested, I reckon. But it might also be some sea weed I snagged, meanin I gotta haul it back and cast out fresh. Durn hate that.

tug
tug
tug

Three more pulls means a fish, for sure. Got to be, so I start windin' the line in slow-like. Don't wanna lose the fish out yonder. I feel alittle shiver as I go. Means I done got me a fish, alright. Right on the hook, too. Good. You ain't gettin' away now. I speed up, bringin' the line in faster an' faster. This here's when you take a chance. Any second, that fish could shake itself loose, and you gotta start all over again. I finally get the line to the pier and I start liftin' it up. He's squirmin' now, tryin' to get loose. But it ain't no use. I've already got him. This is just the victory lap. I pull the line over the rail and see a mullet on the hook. Ain;t what I was hopin' for, but I'll take it. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. I grab him quick, takin' the hook out 'fore I toss him back into the water. Then my phone buzzes again. I pull it out and see it's a text from Cam. Wonder what he's thinkin'. I then open and read it.
'How much time do we have left?' Is what it says. Beast to ease him into it, I guess.
'None. He wants us in Burgaw tonight.' I holler back, catchin' Cam's defeated sigh from clear through the screen. Knowed it was comin'. He runs hot and cold, typin' then erasin' 'fore he finally sends somethin'.
'Murim?' That says it all.
'Wouldn't be surprised.' I sigh back 'cause I know that damn Crow had a hand in this. It's the only thing that adds up right now. Cam don't write back, so I start packin' up all my gear, quick and careful like. I don't like leavin' fokls waitin'. That's just rude. No matter what Murim's done, I'm gonna find out. Paw-Paw's had all he can take of his shit. He needs some rest, and I'm gonna make sure he gets it. For Darrel.

|-Earlier that evening. 680 Old Savannah Road, Burgaw-|

I perch in the tree, watching the house closely so that I can take note of it's inhabitant. This old house. One look and you'd think nothing of it. And yet… It has seen tragedy. I took delight in tormenting Darrel and Thomas all those years ago. All those months of planning playing out in real time. All to my pleasure. the final climax of luring Darrel into the field, then taking him to the Grove where he tried desperately to escape. To return home. All futile. All vain. His physical body now gone. Only his spirit remains. And soon, that shall be gone too. A shame, really. For he was my favorite snack, after all. But enough reminiscing. I have a proxy to turn. And this old house may prove useful again.

I take flight, the wind beneath my wings feeling fresh and light. But it is short lived. I perch on the roof of the domicile, tapping the tiles with my beak to draw out Thomas' attention. After a few seconds, I hear footsteps beneath me, meaning that my ploy has worked. It is clear that I have brought some… pleasant memories for the old man. I feel a thump beneath me as Thomas tries to find out what is going on. Though it doesn't take him long to put the pieces together.
"You got some gall comin' back here, you little sumbitch!" He shouts, prompting me to tap his roof once more. I do enjoy this game. It draws out so many wonderful flavors form my prey. How unfortunate that I am not here to feed or to hunt. I hop over to a new space on the tiles, noticing that I must be above a window. So I hop down to the windowsill, tapping my beak on the glass, jumping down to the ground below so that Thomas does not see me. not that it matters. He already knows that it is me.
"I swar, when I git my hands on you…" I hear him grumble as he comes into the room. Thomas White, still a simpleton all these years later. One would think he would grow wiser in his old age. But alas. Some things never change. Perhaps for the better.Once I am sure he has left the room, I circle the house. I find another window, but I do not tap immediately. Nor do I move to the windowsill. Instead, I linger below it, listening close and Thomas walks in, expecting to see me on the windowsill.
"I swear to Gawd…" I hear him mutter as he turns the light on. He then moves deeper into the space, can tapping on the hard wood flooring as he goes, all while muttering to himself. "It musta been him. But why? Why'd he come back here? He didn't hearken me t'other day, did he? What'm I sayin'. Sho 'nuff he did." I hear, taking delight in the small amount of suffering that I am causing on this night. Is this really all it took to rile up that old fool? He's more pathetic than I thought.

I linger underneath this window for a while, waiting for the moment Thomas leaves the room before I continue with my pestering. Once i am sure, I hop up onto the windowsill and tap my beak against the glass once more before flying back up to the roof. The old fool's groans of annoyance are such a delight to hear, even after all this time. It takes me back, really. But enough of that. I wander over to the chimney, lingering by it's small opening. I could use this. But how? I ponder for a few moments, listening as Thomas wanders around his home, paranoid that I may now be inside the domicile. I am not. Not yet, at least. I can hear him through the chimney, muttering to himself as he goes.
"Why didn't I put no cameras up yonder? Lord, what a idjit I is." I hear as he continues to pace around the space below. Once I am certain that he is gone, I slowly make my way towards the chimney. It won't be the most comfortable fit, but I can slide down it easily. I carefully insert myself into the chimney, slowly sliding down it's length without making a sound. I do not want Thomas to know I have entered the abode. I continue to make my way down until I have cleared the fireplace, where I then glide to the nearest perch that can provide me with cover. I move silently, every change it position a calculated effort to stay hidden. Once I am sure of my new location, I simply sit and observe. I hear footsteps nearby, indicating that Thomas is returning to the living room to see if anything has changed. I watch as he enters from the right, eyes scanning every corner for anything that might look suspicious.
"I know you's in here…" He mutters to himself as he continues to watch every dark corner he finds, monitoring it for movement. For anything that seems out of place. But he does not find it, so he leaves the room, allowing me a moment to continue our game. With a wing, a nudge a picture frame until it falls to the floor, using the sound of the glass breaking as cover to change my position. This time, I move under a chair, allowing me good sight lines of the room, albeit with next to no good verticality. Thomas quickly rushes back in, investigating the sound, almost immediately seeing the fallen picture upon his reentry. He picks it up, carefully setting pieces of broken glass back into their places as he examines the frame.
"Hmm… Just the glass that got busted. He's gotta be in here now. Damn Crow." He says as he reaches into his pocket, procuring a small rectangular device and doing… something with it. I hear it ring for a few seconds while Thomas holds it up to his ear. A few more seconds go by, and he speaks into it. As if he is having a conversation with another person. This advancement of human technology has always fascinated me. If was none the wiser, I'd call it magic.

"You might wanna come on up here sooner 'n you think."
"Tonight, likely."
"Yeah, tonight."
"Better not keep me waitin', Bo."

Ah, Robert. It seems I have caused enough duress that Thomas is bringing my prey to me. Good. Very good. Exactly as I intended. Soon, Cameron will be within my grasp. And I will take delight when I close my talons around him. Bending his soul to my will. To His will. All I need do now is wait. To be patient. Cameron should be here later tonight. Meaning that the real fun can begin. Oh what grand plans I have for you, Cameron. Such grand plans indeed…

"There ye are."

It's sudden. It's fast. It's… unexpected. I had become distracted. Complacent. That allowed Thomas the opportunity to take one last look within the living room. And more thorough look.And now I am found. But it matters not. I quickly flee from my hiding place, darting out from under the chair with speed and precision. Thomas is unable to grab me, but that does not mean I am safe. Not when I see the crude device in his hand.
"I knowed it. I KNOWED it. You just cain't leave me be, can ye?" He says,voice tinged with anger as he brandishes his lowly firearm. It will not deter me. He knows that. Or perhaps he doesn't. Thomas is, after all, an old fool.
"Now is that any way to greet an old friend of the family, Thomas? Surely you of all people can appreciate a visit from someone like me." I say, sliding the knife into the flesh ever so subtly so that this new game may begin. Thomas aims the gun at me, intent on firing the weapon. But I know he won't. Not inside his domicile.
"You ain't no friend of mine, you damned dirty bird." He says, voice gruff, as if trying to intimidate me despite knowing that it will not work. How very cliche…

I swoop down from my roost, passing by Thomas' head, but not making contact. I already have enough eyes in this place. No need for any more. Then, as quickly as I came in, I exit. I fly back out through the small chimney, perching on the roof as I hear Thomas shuffle to his feet, cursing under his breath. He then moves into a different room, presumably to rest and wait for dear Robert to arrive with Cameron. That is when I can put the next stage of my plan into motion. But as I wait, I notice something in the field beside the house. Through the thin line of trees. The tall stalks seem to sway in ways that are unnatural. Ways that pique my interest. I take flight once more, vanishing between the branches of the trees and then eventually the crops. I feel the oddest sensation in my mind. As if someone is calling for me subconsciously. It is not like how it was when Cameron foolishly uttered my name, revealing his position to me for the briefest of moments. It is not like Aziel, who always has this tinge of annoyance. No, this is different. This call is one that is powerful. One I am familiar with.

My Master, He is here. But for what purpose? Perhaps to question why I torment this poor soul so. Perchance it is to question why I still pursue Cameron. All will be revealed when I lay my eye upon Him. It does not take long for me to find Him. Or rather, for Him to find me, as I hear his uncannily childlike voice be carried on the wind through the stalks.

"Murim… Always so persistent with your prey. Why come here? What do you have to gain from this?" I hear, simultaneously far off and close by. He has a habit of doing things to that degree.
"We both know why, my Master." I respond, hearing the stalks thrush close to me. I watch as He slowly appears through them, coming closer and closer, outstretching His arm so that I may perch upon it. I take the opportunity, red eyes tracking Him fast as I close the distance. "All I need is just a few more scant days, and Cameron will be broken."
"I am still uncertain as to WHY you think he would serve me well." My Master says, eye piercing through my being from underneath His mat of hair. "Why not simply consume his essence, as you have done countless times before. Or put him on the road to have his deepest desires realized."
"Oh, but you see, that dirty Celt has other plans. Time and time again she interferes, along with Cameron's other acquaintances." I say as I puff my feathers, letting my thoughts be known. "Who is to say that he does not take the same path Senara did. How unfortunate that Cameron has the gumption to take action when he deems it necessary." I say, taking the briefest glance towards my wing. The one Cameron had injured only a few days prior. The event is still fresh in my mind.
"Hmm… perhaps THAT is why you deem to make him a proxy. Though why for me I still do not understand. After all, I have you and Aziel." He says as he processes what I have told him. The gears spin. The key turns. And then He gazes out through the stalks, as if admiring a long off monument to sin that stands tall in the distance before returning His attention to me. "Very well. You may continue in this endeavor, Murim. But you must first separate this Cameron from the others. Starting with Senara." He then says, running His finger underneath my beak as He does so. "If the celt wishes to stay on the stage of this play, so be it. I'll leave her ending up to you." My Master says as as He then sets me down, turning on His heel to walk through the stalks from whence He came. After that, I do not see Him again, though His presence lingers, as signified by His voice ringing through my head. "Do not disappoint me, Murim."

woooooosh

The sound of a vehicle catches me by surprise. I fly to the nearest tree, wanting to see who it may be, and find a familiar automobile slowing on the road. A 'truck' as these lowly humans call it. Robert. He has arrived, no doubt with Cameron in tow.

Good. I will not fail my Master.

|-Saturday evening. April 6th, 2024. 680 Old Savannah Road, Burgaw, North Carolina-|

The truck's engine hums as we continue down the road. Map says we're in the right place, but what I'm seeing outside the windows tells me that we're out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. How fun…
"How much longer till we get there?" I ask Bo, wanting nothing more than to be within four walls so that these damn eyes can get off my back.
"Give it 'bout fifteen more minutes." He responds, eyes never leaving the road as the sky gets darker and darker. Everywhere I look, I see little red dots in the trees and crop fields. I know Murim's out there… He's got to be... Why else would we be coming out this far? Gawd, what I'd give ta get my life back ta some kinda normal.

You know that's impossible. Not when you have Murim's hex in your eye.
Oh, don't even start.
You'll fail.
Where there's a will there's a god damn way, little missy.
He'll keep coming after you.
Let him. I have a hammer. I can cave in his skull.

I tune out of that, I'm not in the mood for arguing with a disembodied voice possessing a brooch. All this occult shit is wearing me down and I hate every second of it. So I just stare out the window, watching the sky getting darker as the sun dips below the horizon and the moon rises. Waning crescent… Think either tomorrow or the next day it'll be new. That can't be a good sign. I'll need to talk to Senara about it when me and Bo get settled at his granddad's. Speaking of… He turns right past a church onto Coras Grove Road. Something tells me we're getting closer.
"Almost there?" I ask off instinct, doing my best to stifle a yawn because I still haven't gotten any good sleep for the past few days.
"Yeah, just 'bout there." Bo says as he keeps driving down the road, eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road before he speaks up again. "Just a hop, skip and a jump shy of two miles."
"Good. Maybe we'll finally be able ta get this shit ova wit'." I say, slumping down in my seat as we hit a bump in the road. Probably a squirrel that got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bo keeps his speed steady. but then starts slowing down, meaning that we've arrived. Immediately I can tell that something's wrong. Guess my hunch from earlier was right. Bo's granddad called because Murim was messing with him. A ploy to get me here and turn me into a proxy or whatever the fuck he wants to do with me. I take a deep breath as the truck crawls to a stop, unbuckling my seatbelt as soon as Bo turns off the engine. We then both step out, and things just keep feeling more wrong. There's this weird unnatural fog that shouldn't be here. It's the kind of thing you'd expect to see in front of a haunted house during October, except it's early April and it was a balmy sixty three degrees Fahrenheit with clear skies. Right now, it's about fifty though the humidity is reported at 68%. Though I don't think that's enough for fog to be present. I turn my head and see a crop field past some trees on the left by the drive way. Murim's in there. I can tell. I see the little red dots leering at me from the stalks of… whatever was planted there a few weeks earlier. Corn or wheat, I don't know. Not that I care about that much. I just stand there for a few seconds, staring past those trees, trying to see if those little red dots will move. They don't. They stay locked onto me as much as I'm locked onto them. He knows I'm here. Because of course he does. He set this whole thing up. Why wouldn't he see me here? Damn bird…
"Hey, Cam. You doin' alright?" I hear Bo ask, head snapping to attention so I can respond to him.
"Uh, yeah. I'm doing okay. Just, uh… Thought I saw something past the trees." I say, feeling the urge to run into that field and strangle the little feathered fuck.
"Don't you even think 'bout it. Come on now. Paw-Paw's in the house." Bo then retorts as he starts walking, gravel crunching under his boots. Guess I bettah follow 'im. We make our way to the door, Bo walking up a small set of stairs before he knocks on the aged wood.

knock
knock
knock

It takes a few seconds for Bo to get a response, but someone does come and open the door, and he does not look all that happy.
"Took ya long enough. Git on inside." The old man says, Bo following his words without a second thought. I do the same, not wanting to add to the guy's troubles. "Ay now, I got us some sweet tea an' coffee if you're a mind for it. An' if you'd rather, there's somethin' a bit stronger to wet your whistle."
"We'll take the sweet tea, thank you kindly. I don't reckon moonshine's gonna do us no good right now, Paw-Paw." Bo says, getting the old man to stop in his tracks and turn around. Guess he forgot Bo was bringing me with him.
"Oh, reckon so. You brung a buddy along. Tommy White." He says, extending his hand towards me as he approaches.
"Cam Albridge." I say as I take it, giving as firm of a shake as he can handle before I speak up again. "Bo told me about that story. About what that damn bird did to your brother."
"Well yeah, he done it, sho'nuff. That lil' bastard stops by ever' now an' agin just to sass me somethin' fierce." Tommy says as he starts walking towards his kitchen, me and Bo following closely so we can figure out what exactly happened, though I spy a gun case as we do so. Dem jawns might come in handy…

"So that lil' Crow's been on ya since the back end of March, huh? And he's been follerin' ya all the way down from Virginny?" Tommy asks me as he sips some tea from his cup, setting it down on his coaster as he eyes me up and down.
"More or less." I say, remembering how all of this started. Not exactly a pleasant memory with hindsight. "Little jagoff murderbird just appeared on top of my car after I woke up at three in the morning. Didn't know what to do at the time." I continue, watching Tommy's face closely as he listens. "From there, it's been downhill; Feeling like I'm being watched constantly. Weird dreams where I'm in this giant field of wheat. Jagoff even put his mark in my eye." Tommy just stares at me after I say that last part like he doesn't believe me. But then he stands up, grabs a small mirror then a notebook with a pen and sets them down in front of me.
"Draw it." He says, making me confused by what's going on. "Look at your face in that there mirror an' draw what you see in your eye. Now." I don't argue. I just start sketching what I see as best I can. It takes a few minutes, but I think I got it as close as I can. I then turn the notebook around and give it to Tommy and watch as he studies it. He then turns and sits back down across from me. "Sho'uff. Jest like Darrel said happened to him."
"I'm assuming Darrel was your brother?" I ask, knowing it isn't a good idea. But I continue speaking anyway. "What exactly happened? Bo only told me that he went out into that field with a shotgun because he was sick of crops dying and rotting as soon as they were harvested." Tommy takes a deep breath, then another swig of his tea before he starts speaking up. Time to hear it from the man himself.
"My brother, Darrel, he come into this world back in August of 1949. I popped out 'bout two years later come May of '51." He starts, looking out a window briefly before returning his attention back to me and Bo. "Now, this here ain't the first house set on this piece of ground. Our old place, it was a big'un. Built for a whole passel of folks even though it was just me, my brother and our momma and daddy. That field out yonder was bigger, too. Me and Darrel, we'd always head out and put them seeds down whenever our daddy told us to, mostly 'long 'bout early to mid spring."
"You never let on 'bout that part." Bo interjects as he downs the rest of his tea, standing up so he can refill his cup as Tommy starts talking again.
"At first, it was all right. Crops'd come up good, and we'd make a fair bit sellin' 'em down at the market. Then 'round '65, things started turnin'. First time we had a harvest come short-just a few bushels of wheat that year. But it just got worse with every pickin'." He says, face grimacing as he remembers what happened decades ago. "Then we'd get on up to Halloween week, and the mess would hit the fan, I tell you what. It'd start out slow like, then pick up steam. A dead squirrel here and yonder. Somethin' we'd chalk up to roadkill. Foxes tryin' to slip into the hen's houses, some makin' it inside, but the roosters'd give 'em a right good fight. Then came the crows…"

Stop.
What? No. Why shoul I stop him? I need to know this.
You don't want to.
Yes I do.

"Darrel was allus fixated on 'em. Every second he could git, he'd be outside watchin' 'em gather up in the trees an' on the scarecrows. Didn't unnerstand it at first." Tommy continues, watching me and Bo closely to make sure we're listening before he speaks up again. "I figured he'd plum lost his mind, gettin' all riled up 'cause the wheat come up bad agin. Then one year, '69 I reckon, he was out yonder-" He points out the window towards the field beyond the treeline. "Like he always was come late October, and seems like he wandered on out to the fields this time. Then he came back all bloody and beat-up, carryin' on about how one of them crows done put somethin' in his eye." Tommy pauses for a second, collecting his thoughts before he continues. "Daddy didn't take to believin' hm till one night back in '70 when he steeped up to a lookin' glass and drawed out what he was seein' in his eye. Looked jest like what you skecthed out right here, Cam." He says as he taps the page of the notebook where I drew Murim's hex as it looks in my eye. I don't like this feeling that's in my stomach right now. Not in the slightest.
"No way… Mu- The Crow put a hex on ya brudda…" I say, almost slipping up and saying Murim's name out loud. Seems it catches Tommy's attention.
"A hex? That's what you're fixin' to call it? A hex?" Tommy says as I realize that I said that out loud. Fuckin' smooth one, jagoff. "Well, that 'ould 'splain a mess of things." He then says as he takes another sip of sweet tea, briefly looking out the window before returning his attention to me and Bo. "All that hollerin' in the dead of night, carryin' on 'bout voices whisperin' in his noggin. All them strange sights he'd spout 'bout that nobody eles could catch a peek of. Reckon that there mark means he's the only one who could lay eyes on 'em and hear 'em."

thump

All three of us turn our heads to the window as something hits it. He's messing with us. Why else would he be doing this now? I turn to face Tommy, wanting to end this right now before things get worse.
"Save the rest for later. Something tells me we're at the end of this road for now." I say as I stand up, finishing my tea and heading into the living room, wanting to get whatever sleep I can before things get dicey.

|-The Ceramic Grove of Wheat-|

My eyes open slowly, the first thing I see being the moon looming above me. Notably not moving an inch in the sky. Fan-fuckin'-tastic. I'm back in tha Grove. Has to be a dream. Or I guess, a nightmare considering what happened the last time I was here after falling asleep. I quickly get to my feet and start moving. No telling how many zombies or nasty horse-crow hybrids are in this stalks. With no idea on where I should be going, I just wander. Certainly better than nothing though i would like to have some sort of goal while I'm here. Maybe climb up one of those old aqueducts again to get out of here if I see one. But something tells me that's just wishful thinking. Especially when this damn brooch starts talking to me again.

You're in danger.
Yeah, no shit Sherlock. This is just a dream, it has to be.
You don't know that.
I do, actually. I fell asleep on a couch. I did not go back outside. It's not like last time where I wandered around a damn forest for hours on end.
That sounds annoying.
It was. And then I ended up here.

This conversation keeps going as I walk, probably in circle but fuck it, even if I find this thing annoying, it's better than being alone out here.

That's horrible. Why would someone ever do that?
Great question. No fuckin' clue. All I know is that he was a jagoff and stabbed me in the back.
You have some interesting "friends".
Yeah, friends. That's one way to put it.

thrush
thrush
thrush

I turn around on my heel to face wherever that sound came from. Though like before, it sounds like multiple individuals moving around me at the same time. Hate how Murim makes that happen.

thrush
thrush
thrush

Another set of… things moves in the wheat stalks as I try to figure out exactly where they are coming from. One second it's behind me, then it's to my right before it's far away. Then just like that, it's right in front of me before heading to my left. It's hard to keep track with all the movement and sound that's happening here. I stay still, trying to zone in on where I might hear it next. I listen closely, but hear nothing. Not yet at least. I hold still for a few more seconds, but after it becomes apparent that I won't be hearing much, I start walking again, brooch yapping away once more.

Any idea what that was?
Got a few. You won't like any of them.
Probably right. Murim is crafty. Who knows what he'll send after you.
Oh, I know what he'll send after me.

I keep moving through the stalks, weary of what might be around the next plant. So I move carefully and slow, wanting to hear everything that's around me so I don't get jumped.

thrush
thrush
thrush

Left. On my left. I quickly bend down and grab a rock, chucking it into the stalks and watching what happens. What happens is exactly what I expected: one of those weird horse-crow things jumping out and pecking at where the stone landed. Just as I remembered. Those things respond to movement and sound. Probably because it can't see so it's relying on it's hearing to gauge where potential prey may be. Gotta be careful. I start moving even slower, occasionally picking up and rock and throwing it whenever I hear one of those things moving around in the wheat. Before long, I've found a clearing. A small bare circle where wheat isn't growing. Good place to rest. Well, "rest". If there's any deadheads here, they're definitely on my tail. Just don't know where they are. And that scares me. But I can spare some time here.

Not safe.
Nowhere in this place is safe.
This feels like a trap.
I wouldn't be surprised.
So then why are we stopping?
I want to rest a bit. No better place than this clearing.

I can tell this brooch isn't happy. Then again, neither am I. I hate being in this place. Dis stupid fuckin' Grove dat damn murderbird built fer hisself. Pisses me off. I sit down and look up, seeing that the moon hasn't moved an inch. Never does in this place. Don't know why I expected anything along those lines to change. God damn infuriating if you ask me. I linger here for a few minutes, inhaling deeply so that I can get a feel for what the air smells like. Yup, still reeks like a pile o' stiffs. Can't tell ya why I figgered it'd be diff'rnt. It's weird just how peaceful things are right now. No rustling in the stalks near me. No horrifying sounds being carried on the wind. Just me in this small clearing. So obviously something is wrong. This is the Ceramic Grove of Wheat I'm dreaming of right now. If there's a moment of calm, then something is gonna happen.

rustle
rustle
rustle

As if on cue… I hear the stalks moving on my left, followed by a very familiar sound.

grrrrrroooooooaaaaaaooooooooon
errreeerreraaaaaaaghghghaghghghgahghg
eeeeeaaaaaaeaeaeuuuuuuuuuugh

The dead heads have found me. Time to go.

I quickly get to my feet and start moving as the groaning gets louder. Must be a whole horde of the motherfuckers. Luckily, they're all behind me. For the most part… Out of nowhere, a zombie grabs my arm and starts pulling me closer, wanting to get a bite out of me. I immediately give resistance so as to not become one of those things, and then feel something heavy on my belt. My hammer. Comin' through clutch as always. I get it off my belt and immediately bash the zombie's rotting skull in, watching it drop to the ground in a lifeless lump. I don't get much time to actually look at it, though. Not with a whole horde of these things on my tail.

I'm moving fast through the stalks, the sounds of zombies and horse-crows surrounding me as I run. Every now and then a dead head tests it's luck, only to get it's skull caved in as I bring the hammer down. But I know that I'm only getting lucky. Sooner or later, I'll get grabbed by one that's got thicker skin. Bones that aren't as rotten. And that thought terrifies me. Because what happens when you die in a dream? You usually wake up since the brain can't comprehend what happens to you after you die. But what happens if something offs me here? I get the feeling that I'll actually die in the waking world. That my soul will come here and be nothing but food for Murim. But then again, Murim wants to make me a proxy for Him. He's not gonna let these dead heads eat me alive.

I keep running through the stalks, watching as they become thinner and thinner. That usually means I'm getting somewhere, like that forest or closer to the aqueducts. And I'm right… To a certain extent. I come to a cliff overlooking spares forests and even more fields of wheat, all surrounded by towering aqueducts that make up some impossible, non-euclidean geometry. I'm talkin' 'bout da kinna stuff you'd see on YouTube if ya wanna fry yer gray matter. Just looking at it makes my stomach hurt. I guess when I come here in a dream, Murim has even more control than he usually does. I take another step, shoe hitting something akin to marble. And that's when the brooch starts speaking again.

I don't like this. It's far too familiar in a bad way.
I'm right there with ya. But there's only one way to get out of here.
If you're so certain that you're dreaming, than jump. You'll wake up as soon as you hit the ground, right?
Sound logic. But unfortunately, we're in the Grove. I get the feeling that if this is a dream, and I die here, it'll be like some Nightmare on Elm Street shit: I die in real life as well.

screeeeeeeech

Without warning for the second time, I'm forcefully moved. This time, the slab of marble I'm on starts descending lower and lower towards the ground far below.

What the fuck?!
Crass language. Understandable though.
Oh don't even start with that right now. What's happening?
I think we're heading down further into the Grove. Only the Devil knows what we'll find.
Well that's reassuring…

The slab eventually comes to a stop, and I step off, looking around to see weird repeating patterns that I can't make sense of. It's startin' to hurt my noggin, honestly. Best to not think about it. I start moving, passing under ruined aqueducts and crumbling towers as eyes leer at me from every possible and impossible direction. In the sky, from the trees, under the brushes. Even through these old stone walls. It makes a pit form in my stomach, but I have to keep moving. No telling if those dead heads can follow me down here and I'd rather not find out the hard way.

click
click
click

It's coming from behind a wall on my right. I quickly grab a rock and chuck it in that general direction and see one of the horse-crows rush out. Because of course those things are down here… I quickly compose myself and start moving again. At least these things are easy to deal with. Just grab a rock when I hear one and throw it in that direction. Gets them moving out of my way every time. I keep repeating this time and time again until I've made some decent progress, coming to one of those impossible geometry buildings. Just the sight of it makes me nauseous. But still, I press on, ignoring all the odd sounds that permeate the air. Ignoring the weird, golden brown hue the sky has now taken on. Ignoring all the eyes that are on me. I try my best to make sense of this building, how the walls come together, where the corners lay and how they connect to the floor. But I just can't. I guess in this instance the architectural side of my brain needs to be shut off. Working in construction does that to ya, makes you think about how buildings are put together way too much sometimes. I start approaching faster, trying to see if I can placebo myself into thinking there's a way across the gap it's blocking. To my surprise, I can, and carefully start moving towards the next impossible building I see, repeating the same process of shutting off all the logic in my head and just moving on instinct. As soon as I'm in the clear, I take a deep breath. I should be good for now. No other gaps to cross by the looks of things. Until I hear his voice…

"Ah, Cameron. It's been a while since you were last in my humble abode, hasn't it?" I hear Murim's voice echo throughout the Grove, simultaneously next to me and far away. Definitely a ploy to intimidate me. To make me softer so that he can break my spirit. Not happening.
"I was wondering when you'd show up." I retort, looking around frantically as I try to find where that damn murderbird is hiding. "Of course, you're too much of a pussy to show your face. As always." I feel the air change as those words come out. It goes from still and dead to electric and tense. Seems I pissed Murim off. That can either be a good or a bad thing. Pro'ly a bad t'ing if this pit in my gut is anyt'ing to go by. I hear a rush of air behind me, and I quickly duck just in time as Murim swoops down from above, trying to take my head clean off. He then shifts form and lands twenty feet away from me, head laser focused on me.
"A poor choice of words, my dear friend." He says in that taunting manner I'm used to. Fuckin' hate dat shit. "So much to do, yet so little time. Who knows when you'll wake and return to Thomas' domicile."

I am dreaming…
So it would seem. But how do we get out of here without Murim following us?
We don't. You already knew that.

I quickly reach for my belt, wanting to grab my hammer but subtly. I can't let Murim see what I'm doing. Just a few more inches… I get my hand around the handle, and now I wait for Murim to turn his back to me. Just gotta let him monolouge for a bit.
"But then again, will you wake? Such an odd thing dreams can be. What truly happens when we drift away in slumber? How so vulnerable the body can be while it and the mind rest. So very vulnerable." He starts going, face still trained on me with a nasty grin on it. "Many things could happen to ones body while they sleep. Many uncouth and dangerous things. Are you even still in the domicile? Who's to say you weren't whisked off to the Grove in your sleep. That this isn't a dream. That this is real. That you are awake." Murim finally turns around the take in the sights of the Grove before him. Now's my chance. I quickly start moving, arm raised above my head so I can deliber the blow. But as I reach Murim…

thump

I trip and fall, hammer nearly coming out of my hand as I hit the ground. Dammit. He's learning.
"Ah, ah, ah. The same trick won't work twice, Cameron." Murim says as he looms over me. I quickly get to my feet and put some distance between me and him, but it's useless. I hear air rushing behind me before I'm lifted off my feet. After that, I'm slammed into a wall with some serious weight, hammer falling from my hand… followed by the brooch. Fuck. I'm hoisted up again as Murim changes form again, this time looking more like a demon, skin turning this disgusting grey and his wings become more fleshy and bat-like, only a sparse covering of feathers on his body. But that's not the worst of it.

I can see his face this time.

"It is time to wake up, Cameron." Murim says as the singular giant eye starts glowing this unearthly golden color, iris boring into my soul. It makes my head hurt. Like something is clawing straight into my skull. It gets worse and worse as the the glow becomes like a damn flashlight blasting right into my eyes. I close them in response, but it does nothing. That light is burning through my eyelids. I try to get out of Murim's grip, but that is also useless. He's too strong like this. His claws start digging into my skin, tearing the cloth of my shirt and puncturing the epidermis. Wouldn't be surprised if I'm bleeding. Wouldn't be surprised if I end up dead after this. So I give up and just let it happen…

|-Sunday morning, Witching Hour, April 7th 2024. 680 Old Savannah Road, Burgaw-|

My eyes creak open real slow, and all I see is that ceilin' fan spinnin' 'round above me while I'm flat on my back in the bed. That ain't a good feelin', I can already tell it's early as the devil by the way there ain't a lick of light comin' through the window. How early, though, I couldn't say fer certain, I ain't fixin' to get up if it's this early. It's a right bad sign, fer sure. Murim might be a-watchin' from somewhere, and I ain't takin' that chance. But then again, it wouldn't hurt none. Gotta mull over the good and bad of it.

I hear some shufflin' out yonder by the door. Reckon that's Paw-Paw. Feller gets up 'fore the roosters crow. That damn bird must've tore him up somethin' fierce if he's stirrin' 'fore the sun even thinks about peekin' over the hills. That there gives me a good shove forward, Wantin' to see what he's got goin' on, I get up oughta bed and start inchin' my way towards the door, quiet-like, so I don't spook him. Last thing I need is ot give Paw-Paw a heart attack. Murim's done 'bout scared him half to death anyway. The shufflin' stops when I get to the door. I ease my hand onto the knob, turnin' it slow and quiet-like. Then I give the door a gentle push, peepin' 'round the edge to see… Cam? What in the sam hillis he doin' up this early? Did he not rest good? Or is he traipsin' 'round in his sleep? I ain;t buyin' that second one the minute I chew on it. Cam don't sleep walk. This is somethin' else entirely. I start creepin' oughta the room, real slow and quiet-like, so's I don't tip Cam off. If Murim's behind what's goin' on here, I sure don't wanna end up in the same fix Cam's in right now. That wouldn't be good at all.

I'm a-watchin' Cam mosey on towards the front door. That ain't lookin' right. I trail behind him, keepin' my steps quiet as a church mouse while he cracks the door open and steps out, cuttin' left and headin' out to the field. I haul ass to close the gap. Ain't tryna let Cam go and get hisself in a mess. I bust out of the house abd see Cam's 'bout at the treeline. I tear off towards him, grab both his arms, and shake the fool.

"Cam. CAM!" I hiss, keepin' it low so I don't wake Paw-Paw, shakin' Cam the whole time to get his head back on straight. His eyes stay shut for a hot second, not even flinchin' at what I'm doin'. But after a few ticks, they pop open and catch this wild look in Cam's eyes 'fore he figures out it's me. He then shoves off me quick 'fore he gets his bearings on where he's at.
"Wha the…" He starts up, then hollers off real quick-like. Then he turns back 'round to me, like I got the answers to everything.
"Well don't you look at me. You're the one who was takin' an early mornin' walk in his sleep." I say, watchin' his face run through a whole mess of feelin's 'fore it finally settles down.
"I was… No. I don't sleep walk." He flat-out says like I ain't seen what I seen.
"You was. Eyes shut tight, headin' straight for that field past the trees." I say, pointin' past the tree line, and I catch some of them stalks shiftin' out there, which just turns my stomach. Don't cotton to that one bit. "C'mon now. We oughtta head back inside." I say, hittin' the steps back toward the front door, Cam's boots thumpin' right behind me as I look at the clock.

Three in the mornin'.
That damn Witching Hour.

"So you was there? In the Grove? And it felt real? Not like no dream even though you knew it was?" I ask Cam, needin' to know more so we can actually do somethin' 'bout this. He reaches for the cup of water and downs the whole thing 'fore he answers.
"Yeah. It was… surreal. So many things that didn't make sense. Weird geometry. This haze filling the sky. Just thinking about it is enough to make my head hurt." He says, gettin' up and fillin' his cup again, sittin' back down while he keeps talkin'. "Damn bird was there. Slammed me against a wall. Felt every last bit of pain. Then he…" Cam kinda fades out while he keeps goin' on 'bout that dream he had. Reckon it didn't end too good. "I don't know what he did to me, honestly. Big ass demon-lookin' form with a giant golden eyeball glaring into me."
"That sounds… plum awful…" I say, not rightly sure how to answer somethin' like that. What in the sam hill do I even say? What do I do? Ain't never had to deal with nothin' like this before. Maybe Paw-Paw could help me out. reckon I oughta ask him when he wakes up. That ain't happenin' just yet, though. I gotta get Cam settled down 'fore we do anythin' else. "Ya got any notion on how we can keep this from happenin' again?" I ask, knowin' full well there ain't much we can do 'round here.
"No clue. I'm just… fuck, man…" Cam goes, clear as day he's tired of bein' pushed around in his own life. Can't fault him for it none.

"Alright, just ease up and breathe for me. We'll conjure somethin' up." I say, grabbin' a cup and fillin' it up with water. I take a good swig, eyein' the road out the window. Was a right fool's errand comin' here last night. But we was plum outta options. I take a deep breath 'fore I turn my attention back to Cam, who's just starin' at the wall. Not sure if he even knows he's got that thousand-yard stare 'til I get his attention. "Cam. What're you thinkin' right now?" I ask, watchin' as he turns his head to me so he can answer.
"Way too much." He answers back, his voice pitched low like he's tryin' to keep it under wraps. Again: Can't say I hold it against him. I'd be lookin' to lay low myself if I was walkin' in his boots. He chugs that cup of water again, gets up, fills 'er back up to the brim, then plops hisslef back down. He takes a big ol' breath, like he's fixin' to say somethin'. But he don' let out a peep. 'Stead, we hear somebody draggin' their feet down the hall, and then Paw-Paw comes outta that hallway and into the kitchen, and his face gets all wide-eyed when he sees us.

"Well, y'all both up bright and early." He's tryin' to crack a joke, but it's plain as day it fell flat as a pancake.
"Couldn't catch no shut-eye." I say for me and Cam, ain't fixin' to get into he nitty-gritty just yet, but I know Paw-Paw ain't swallerin' that for a hot second.
"Can't snooze, huh? Reckon that Crow feller's been pesterin' both of y'all." He says, watchin' Cam let out a heavy sigh, knowin' full why we've gotta has out that dream one mroe time. Somethin' he's tryin' to bury. And somethin' I'm tryin' to bury too. But we ain't got no say in it again.
"Think he's messing with my head." Cam starts, cuttin' his eyes at Paw-Paw, wathcin; his mug while he talks. "Dreamed I was in that damn Grove of his." He wraps up, fixin' to let Paw-Paw or me get a word in 'fore he pipes up again. But neither of us do. Not yet, anyhow. Paw-Paw's clearly chewin' on his words real careful. Then he cuts the quiet.
"Same thang happened to Darrel." He starts runnin' his mouth, lookin' back and forth 'tween me and Cam 'fore he pipes up again. "Month he went missin', Darrel'd wander 'round in his sleep 'fore day break. Always stopped right up yonder by that field. Sometimes I'd catch him when I couldn't sleep, and when I got him woke up he'd start jabberin' 'bout these crazy dreams. Endless wheat fields full of the walkin' dead and skeleton horses." Paw-Paw keeps on talkin', keepin' a sharpeye on Cam to see if any of it's hittin' home. It's plain as day on his face that it is. Ain't lookin' too pretty or settled, neither.
"What do we do then?" Cam then asks, hopin' Paw-Paw's got some answer fer him.
"What makes ya think I could answer that?" He stars, takin' a sip of water 'fore he picks the thought back up. "I've had some fifty-odd years to come up with somethin'. And ain't one of them ideas worked." He wraps up, watchin' Cam set his jaw, clearly studyin' on his next words 'fore he lets them out.
'There's gotta be something." He then goes, lookin' Paw-Paw dead in the eyes whilst he talks.
"I'd'a told you yestiddy if they was." Paw-Paw shoots back, givin' a quick peek out the winder 'fore he turns back to me and Cam. "Far as I know, there ain't know way to keep that Crow from gettin' into your head whilst you're asleep."

That's when Cam gits up and heads back to the livin' room, floppin' down on the sofa to ctach whatever shuteye he still can. Paw-Paw shuffles back to his room, and I'm just standin' there, water in my hand, lookin' back out one more time. I swan, there's somethin' rustlin' them stalks in the field yonder past the trees. Just thinkin' 'bout it makes me sick. Best get back to sleep. If I can, anyhow.