The ravens cawed at her as she passed, hopping from

branch to branch as they tried to keep pace. She kept her gait
long and slow, it was rare nowadays for her to have a moment
alone to herself in the woods. A line of dirt was kicked up behind
her as she dragged a large sword through the underbrush. Its
blade was dull, rusted, and unfit for use in a real battle, but it was
perfect for her needs.
One of the ravens gathered the courage to perch on her
shoulder. One of her favorites, a little one named Hethk. He was
hardly a year old, yet he whispered such scathing things in her
ear. The little one had sharp eyes, even for a raven.
He told her of sins he had seen. How the grain farmer nearby
prayed to the Deep Ones before bed each night. How the
innkeepers daughters earned extra coins by offering themselves
as bed partners. How a wandering Templar cut down three
teenagers when he found them reveling with the wisps in the
forest.
Such delicious secrets she listened intently as little
Hethk continued. Smiling all the while, the blade behind her
skipped and jumped as the forests underbrush abruptly shifted
from dead leaves to rocky gravel. The trees above her curled in
upon themselves, choking out what little light could make it
through their branches. As they closed, the shadows coalesced
around her. The ravens descended from above to circle her, their
cawing and chattering blocking the noise of the wind whistling
through the dead tree trunks.
Tell me, sweet Hethk tell me the blades story. You all
were so kind to deliver it. So he began. Hethk whispered to her
how his unkindness had flocked to a smell of death that began
miles away; sickly sweet, cruel, and painful death. The most
potent and wonderful flavor of death they knew. The birds weaved
their way through the dead forest, enticed by the encroaching
possibility to satisfy their curiosity and hunger.
When they arrived, the scene was not as fulfilling as
they had been hoping. Two corpses, withered and dried already,
sat near an elder trees trunk. The bodies were pushed together
as if they had been embracing at the moment of their demise,
and a single blade pierced through both of them. It had been sunk
into the stomach of the first form and continued all the way
through the others chest. The tip of the sword was embedded in
the trunk of the tree behind them, propping both of them up.
It was a gruesome site to some, perhaps, but the
ravens were loyal and they had seen and made worse. The
unkindness gathered at the swords hilt, gripping it tightly and
working together to wrench it free from the fallen. As the blade
unstuck itself from the tree, a fresh wave of blood leaked from the
wounds of the pierced individuals. The blood, old and coagulated,
sloughed off the blade leaving behind rust stains and pockmarks
wherever it touched.
When the sword was fully removed, the bodies slumped
to the blood-soaked grass below. Their skin already was flaking
into dust as the ravens carried the blade away, deeper into the
forest.
Two fall so that one may thrive, it is hardly the first
such occasion. Pray it is not the last, my sweet, she spoke as
Hethk finished his tale with his unkindness returning to her side
with the sword. The stones beneath her feet became pebbles, and
eventually, those gave way to gray sand. Finally, she stood before
her love, her elder tree. Its bark an illustrious gray, it towered
toward the darkened sky above. The trunk was littered with
protrusions, each similar in shape, placed carefully apart all the
way up to its canopy.
She had another to add now. Raising the sword with
both of her hands, she thrust it forward, sinking it into the trunk
about a third of the way down the blade. When it finally matched
the others sticking out from the trunk, she stepped back.
One by one, soft golden orbs of light winked into
existence around the protruding sword. One, two, five, then nine
lights. They continued to multiply. Fifteen, twenty, thirty the
lights continued to appear all around the trees base.
My my quite the monster, were you? Absolutely
spectacular Finally, the lights stopped appearing; they hung in
the air motionless and silent. She couldnt help but smile as she
reached a hand forward, Sleep now tiny things. Grant me your
agony so that I may bear its burden.
All of the color held within the floating lights began to
fade. The golden color that was lost quickly formed a shimmering
wind and made its way toward the womans hand. She ground her
teeth together in a manic grin as the golden breeze covered her
skin, and sank deep into her flesh. The orbs still hung, now gray
and lifeless. Slowly, their forms withered away into dust which
settled on the exterior of the tree.
What once was a sword of fine steel was no longer. It
resembled perfectly the other protrusions in the tree. Blade, hilt,
and pommel now made of nothing but faded gray bark. The
woman approached, running her hand along the newest addition
to her collection. The unkindness of ravens circled up above,
perching themselves upon the other calcified swords.
What a wondrous gift, my little ones She leaned
deeply into the elder tree, the wind picking up speed around her.
The ravens once again cawed in unison, their cacophony
spreading for miles beyond their petrified home.