War Dreams, Chapter 3
A smallish raven, probably one of the lowest in the flock by the amount of lost feathers and exposed, scarred skin; hopped in front of the Raven King. The raven bobs its head, talking to the king in the language of birds. The cawing, which is all Siarah heard, translated roughly to "We have found the man, a powerfully built man, the mighty sword with three red gems found in his hand." The little raven hops from one foot to the next in its excitement of delivering the word to its king. "The others allowed me to carry its soul to you" With these words the raven looked like it was about to burst as a round object made its way up its throat, and the bird regurgitated a glowing copper ball upon the graveled ground by Siarah.
Utter astonishment crosses Siarah's face, and then dismay as she looks upon the ball at her feet. Not touching the object, she whispers, "He was dead? What am I to do with this? The dream never showed me this!"
"Dreams do not always show everything my dear" The King cawed, trying to be gentle, but in his heart, he was glad that the man was not man at this point. "If I recall, the dream you told me about simply had you seeking the man during the war. You fulfilled that in the last three years, and you stood here watching the battle in which he perished. You have found him. Now, lass, will you leave these lands? Will you join your people once again?"
Siarah still stared at the ball; a line of wetness etched her tired face, a silent mourning. Quietly she picks up the coppery orb, amazed that it is warm under her hands. She looks pensively into the swirling lights and feels herself start to drift. She had fallen in love with the man in her dreams, seeing that he and her would save the lands and bring back her people. That together they could reunite man and fae again. She mourned not only his passing, but also the future she had built up in her heart and mind.
The raven king, seeing the lass start to slip into the orb without realizing the danger, pushes at her hands with his beak "Whoa now! Dangerous trip you were about to make. Do not look into its lights; you will not like the results!" This startles the small fae, and the ball rolls out of her fingers back to the ground. “To look so deeply into the orb of a soul, will cause you to travel to that soul. You will stay trapped there, trapped until the ravens deliver the orb safely to the Summerland. Your body would be a shell, left to rot without you there to protect it, and you would not be able to pass into Summerland, nor back to these lands. You would not even be a ghost.”
Siarah looks at the orb that was resting before her toes, and wipes away the tears on her face. She looks up at the mighty king, whose bird size is a few inches taller. “I will not look into the orb, not without someone there to protect me.” The king looked satisfied, and leans over to preen gently at the little woman. He stands guard beside her to watch the battlefield, his ravens, and what he is starting to deem as his – Siarah.
When the ravens have left to complete their otherworldly tasks, Siarah took the coppery ball into the cavern. Her little hands could barely wrap around the orb, and it swirled in warm eddies upon her palms. Lying back down upon her mossy bed, she studied the orb, ever so careful to keep her mind shielded. Soon she drops back to sleep, weary from the activities of the night.
Outside, without her knowledge, the Raven King has flown back, shifting to his human form and then using his magic to adjust his shape to match the small fae’s size. Slipping into her cavern, no further than the door, Gregeori gives a silent sigh and sits with his back against the wall. He has been doing this almost nightly, ever since the war of man moved closer and closer to Siarah's abode.
Gregeori scowls at the orb that rested on a mossy pillow beside her. How he wished that man had never graced the lands near Siarah. His human form is almost alien to him; he stares at his bare feet wondering what Siarah sees in the man within the orb. The human male body is not that well built. It is gangly with long awkward bones and so many soft areas to protect. Nothing for warmth either. No wonder clothing was so important. How man can lift heavy weapons, don clothing of metal is beyond his concept. The ravens dined upon the dead, taking their souls to the Summerland. There was no need for the metals left behind.
