Nightfall in the Shadow Woods, all was quiet and dark, unusually for tonight, there is no crickets or chicadas singing their soft songs nor are there any birds in the trees. Everything seems to be gone, leaving an eerie, creepy feeling in the forever gloomy woods.
There was a large caw-cawing sound, the sound of rustling feathers, the rhythmic beats of wings flapping and a raven perched itself on top of a branch. It is unusually large for a normal raven, it is twice the size of an average one, and awfully large and menacing. Its feathers are as beautifully black as the nightfall, its eyes large and round, like shining crimson rubies. Its beak is a mix of golden orange, like razor and sharpened to the point. The claws are like powerful piercing razor irons, strong and sharp like cold steel. Indeed, it is a raven like no other.
The raven cocked its head to one side, as if it’s thinking, making up its mind, which is a rather odd behaviour. As if it had made its decision, it spread out its wings and flapped deeper into the woods, flying so fast til the trees around it were like blurs of ink black. Deeper and deeper into the darkness it went when a small golden light, no bigger than a speck of dot appeared in its field of vision. It then burst into a small clearing in the heart of the woods, where a small campsite area had been set up. The gold light was actually a campfire, which is burning merrily in the middle. Piles of woods had been set beneath it to keep it burning.
The raven gave a caw and touched down. As it did so, it materialized into a hooded figure, pulling off his hood to reveal his appearance. He is very tall, nearly seven feet tall, powerfully-built with broad shoulders and legs as thick as tree trunks. His hair is blond, so pale blond til it’s nearly white, it stood straight up til it looks so electrifying. His eyes are cold and hard, utterly without mercy, the colour of his iris like shining crimson bloodstones, probably as red as fresh blood, with a tint of sparkle in them, the only source of life in him. His cloak is exactly the colour of the raven’s feathers, so black til it seems to blend him into the shadows, fastened with a bloodstone. The clothes he wore will not look out of place in the Middle Ages. A worn out tunic and pants, with a thin leather belt and thick boots made out of dragon hide.
Taking no notice of the surrounding, the man sat in front of the fire, warming his hands. His nails are painted black like a typical Goth, except nothing about him is Gothic. He is utterly cold and hard, as though someone had cut off all emotions from him, leaving him empty like a hard shell. As he sat there, feeling the warmth of the heat, a raven similar to him flapped down and landed on his shoulder, tucking its wings neatly beneath it.
“Demise will be here soon.” He stroked the raven longingly with his fingers. It gave a caw and then sat still.
There was a few minutes of silence as the time is ticking by. After a moment of waiting or so a huge gust of wind appeared in front of him, making the flame dance wildly. Rose petals blew around him like a storm, spinning and dancing all around. Without warning, the gust that had been spinning wildly stopped just as boy emerged from its depth, wearing a cloak that makes him resembles the Grim Reaper. He has semi-long spiky pink hair that frames his smiling boyish face, which matches his eyes. Framed by long feminine lashes like a girl’s. What is most unusual is his skin. Pale white as smooth as porcelain, but sickly pale as Death.
“Demise.” The man nodded curtly.
“Sigan.” Demise said cheerfully. He’s holding a very, very long thorny vine that acts as a rope. Bound to it is a young girl, around 17, with soft blue hair and soft green eyes.
“Is that her?” He asked, jabbing a thumb at the bound girl, whose mouth was also gagged with vine.
“Should be,” Demise said cheerfully, his face sweet and angelic, full of innocence.
Sigan send his raven flying into the air, got up and went over to the girl, who is trying to shirk away from him. Taking no notice, he grabbed her head roughly and examined her carefully like a scientist trying to conduct his experiments. After a few minutes, he shook his head.
“It’s not her.”
Demise’s smile faltered a bit. “It’s not?”
“No, the eyes are the wrong colour. It’s blue, not green. And the hair is longer.”
“Darn, she was a bit tough to catch.” Demise positioned himself in front of the fire, the flames reflecting in his pink eyes. “Should I let her go?”
“I’ll handle it.”
There was the unmistakable sound of the human neck snapping and the girl slumped onto the ground, dead.
“Was that necessary?” Demise asked as Sigan removed the gag from the now dead girl and knotted it around her legs, which he attached with a huge boulder.
“I will not risk our cover being blown.” He said coldly. He then snapped his fingers sharply and a huge raven swooped down, snatched the girl firmly and flew off into the night sky. Few moments later, there was a far distance splash and Sigan smiled.
“Harsh.” Demise remarked.
“I made sure the body is buried within the sea.” Sigan sat back down., without sympathy nor regret. “That way, no one can find any evidence. And you’re one to talk, who’s the one that always chop people’s heads and collect them as trophies?”
“I do think of it as an art.” Demise pulled out a neatly packed package from within his cloak. “You look worn out, have some of this.”
“What is it? Poison?” Sigan eyed it suspiciously.
Demise laughed as he unwrapped the package, revealing a bottle filled with purple liquid, tightly corked to prevent its contents from spilling. Even in the dim light, Sigan could see the label clearly thanks to his enhanced vision.
Sierra Falls Sparkling Wine
Silently, Demise pulled the cork out, and handed it to him. Sniffing it suspiciously, Sigan took a sip. Delicious, cold and refreshing, he thought dreamily and in awe. The wine is made out of fresh grapes, freshly squeezed to get its rich juice out, some sugar to make it sweet, without preservatives nor chemicals, then freshly chilled with ice. It’s not even made from modern technology, but handmade.
“It’s the best wine in town.” Demise smirked, taking out a small hipflask and taking a swig. “I regularly drop by the winery to get one. Great, isn’t it?”
Sigan took another greedy slurp before answering, “Get another.”
“No problem.” Demise got up. “I could also search for her. Kill two birds with one stone. You sure this is where she is staying?”
“Positive. And I’ll stay here and scout, I’ll attract too much attention.”
Demise nodded and there’s a gust of flower petals and he’s gone.
Sigan waited til the last rose petal was out of sight before wiping away a bead of sweat from his eyebrow.
He’s getting suspicious… He thought. At this rate, if he inform to him, I’ll be in trouble. I got to find her and fast.
Pulling back his hood, he transformed back into a raven and took off into the skies.
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